When Reality Hits
by krissy7490
Summary: Dean's drinking finally catches up to him and has to deal with it's consequences. The reality of long-term alcohol abuse and what happens during detox. A whole lot of Dean-angst. Dark issues discussed. Some graphic mentions of torture.
1. Chapter 1

Supernatural isn't mine! Sam and Dean (unfortunately!) aren't mine! This was just an idea I picked up and ran with! It was the nurse in me worried about the effects of Dean's drinking!

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When Reality Hits

Dean was lying on the motel room bed, watching TV. He took another swig from the bottle of Jack Daniels he had sitting next to him on the stand between the beds. The alcohol left a slight cool burn as it slid down his throat. The alcohol-induced haze he felt was good. Comforting. It was what he wanted. It was his goal every time he took another sip. Everything felt a little bit better when the alcohol coursed through him. It didn't matter what kind it was. While beer was his first choice, hard liquor came up close behind. The buzz hit faster and lasted longer.

Yes, everything was more tolerable when he was drinking. Fighting monsters every day? Take a drink. Get ripped apart by Hell Hounds and die? Another drink makes the memory fade. Tortured in Hell? Drink. Tortured others in Hell and forced to remember the sick and twisted pleasure from it? Drink drink and drink. Sam using demon powers and sleeping with demons? While that pales in comparison to his own deeds, a few more drinks make those fade away. End of the world? Too drunk to care!

He had gone to the liquor store the same time Sam had left to do research for their next job. Dean knew Sam would be gone for hours and recent events and revelations had made Dean decide he really just did not want to think about anything anymore for at least one night.

So he drank.

He turned to look at the stand and was startled to see that he had finished two bottles of Jack Daniels and was well into the third. He had been watching a marathon of "I Dream of Jeanie" on the TV and hadn't been paying attention as he drank. He had also been too depressed to eat.

"Probably shou' stop," he mumbled in a drunken slur to himself. "Fuck. Sammy's gonna be pissed…"

He decided to get up and clean up the evidence. Sam hadn't said anything really about his drinking yet, but Dean was pretty sure he had noticed. He also didn't want the lecture he knew would come if Sam had seen how much he had drank. And he _had_ drank a lot, even for Dean!

He sat up, but too quickly. The room began spinning and Dean felt his stomach lurch. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying to keep the sickness down. He really did have too much. He wasn't sure when Sam would be back, but he wasn't sure how he was going to hide this from him. He opened his eyes and tried to stand, but it felt like the room had turned into a tilt-a-whirl and he couldn't get his balance. Suddenly, the room went dark and Dean collapsed to the floor.

***

Sam walked back to the motel from the local library. He had found a few bits of information for their next hunt, but nothing earth shattering. Not that Dean would care. Anything to keep him busy was enough for him. Ever since he had started talking about his time in Hell, Sam had noticed a change in Dean. It wasn't always apparent. Most of the time Dean acted like nothing had ever happened. But then there were the other times. The nightmares. The drinking. The subtle changes in his hunting. The way he talked about the future. The new uncertainty of their work. Sam knew Dean well enough to see the changes and could see the toll it was taking. But it almost didn't matter because Dean would just brush it off or tell him to shut up.

Sam stopped at a fast food place and picked up some burgers and fries for dinner before returning to the motel. He knew that Dean would be hungry by now and would want food. And if Sam didn't bring back something Dean would get cranky.

He heard the TV when he got to the door. He unlocked the door and went in.

"Dean! I'm back! I got us some food!" Sam called out. He saw the TV was on and the bed was rumpled, obviously from where Dean had been sitting.

Then he saw the empty bottles. The two large empty Jack Daniels bottles and the third bottle almost completely empty.

"What the hell?" Sam stared in shock. Dean had been drinking more, yes, but never that much!

"Dean!" Sam called out again. He felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach when he got no response. "DEAN!"

He dropped the bag and went to the other side of the bed. And then he saw him.

Dean was lying in a crumpled heap in between the two beds. There was a pile of vomit next to his mouth. He was deathly pale and barely breathing. Sam rushed over to him.

"DEAN! DEAN! WAKE UP!" Sam screamed.

He shook him as hard as he could and even slapped him across the face, desperate for a response. Dean moaned slightly, but nothing else. Sam fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed 911.

"I need an ambulance! NOW!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sam followed behind the ambulance to the hospital. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he tried to get his phone out of his pocket and drive at the same time. Dean still hadn't woken up and his breathing had become more irregular before the paramedics had arrived. They had put a breathing mask on him and told Sam he should follow them to the hospital.

He hit Bobby's speed dial number and held the phone to his ear. He prayed Bobby was home to answer.

"Hello?" the gruff voice answered.

"Bobby! Bobby, it's… its Sam," Sam barely was able to choke out.

"Sam? What is it? What happened?"

"Dean… he … he … they're taking to the hospital. In an ambulance. He's… God, Bobby! He's not conscious! He was on the floor and barely breathing…"

"What!? Son of a bitch, Sam, what the hell happened!?"

"I don't know! I went to the library and he stayed at the motel. When I got back he was on the floor. There were bottles… he had been drinking…"

"Drinking? Drinking what? Beer?"

"No… liquor… whiskey…"

"How much?"

Sam swallowed hard. "A lot. A lot more than he normally drinks. The bottles were big. And he finished at least two of them, was almost done a third."

"_What_!? Son of a bitch! Sam, where are you? I'm on my way!"

Sam managed to tell him where his was and where the hospital was. He then hung up and gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"God, please! You can't take him! You can't!"

They finally arrived at the hospital. Sam quickly parked and bolted into the ER. He ran over to the desk where a nurse was sitting.

"Please! My brother! He just came in on the ambulance!"

She quickly got up and motioned him to follow her. She led him to one of the rooms where Sam could see them working on Dean. One person was listening to his chest. Another one was checking his blood pressure. A third setting up some kind of equipment that Sam didn't recognize.

"Doctor Morris," the nurse said to one of the men standing next to Dean's stretcher. "This is the patient's brother. He was the one to find him."

Dr. Morris came over to Sam. "You are the one who found him?"

Sam nodded. "Is he going to be OK?"

"We're going to help him. I need you to answer some questions for me, though. OK?"

Sam nodded desperately.

"Does your brother take any medications?"

"No."

"What about any drugs? Marijuana? Cocaine?"

"No!"

"But he does drink?"

Sam swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah. But I didn't think it was that bad. He's never drank this much before!"

"How much does he normally drink a day?"

Sam had to think about that. He had never really given it much thought before, but realized it was quite a bit. "I… I don't know. Maybe five or six beers."

"Every day?"

Sam nodded. "Sometimes we go to the bars and he'll have some shots too. Not every day."

"And how long has he been doing this for?"

Again, Sam had to think hard. "Well, he's had beer every day for awhile. But I guess he's been drinking more the last few months."

Dr. Morris frowned hard. "What about his medical history? Any medical problems? Heart problems? Breathing problems?"

"No, sir."

"Any surgeries?"

"No."

"What about any psychological problems?"

Sam felt his heart jump. "What?"

"Has he been acting different? Depressed? Moody? Angry?"

Sam closed his eyes, fresh tears pricking his eyelids. He slowly nodded.

"He… he's been through a lot. He's… he's trying to cope."

Dr. Morris nodded. "What about being suicidal? Anything like that?"

Sam's eyes flew open. "No! No, he wouldn't do that! He's not like that!"

Suddenly, one of the machines began to alarm loudly. When they turned to look the heart monitor showed the lines going up and down in rapid succession.

"He's in v tach!"

"He's not breathing!"

Everyone began rapidly moving around the room. Sam stood there, frozen. Instead of being pale Dean's lips had begun to look blue-tinged. One of the people in the room covered his face with a mask and began bagging him. The cart holding the defibrillator was brought over and opened. They began pulling out various syringes and injecting them into the IV in his arm.

Suddenly, Sam felt a hand on his arm. Another nurse stood next to him.

"They're going to do everything they can to help him," she said gently.

Sam could barely breathe. Tears of terror rolled down his cheeks. This was impossible. This just could not be happening. Not after everything they had gone through. He had barely been back six months. Sam couldn't lose him again. He couldn't go back to the way it was when Dean had been gone before. He couldn't.

"The medication isn't working."

"Everyone get ready."

Dr. Morris switched on the defibrillator and pulled out the paddles. Everyone moved away from the gurney while he squirted the gel on the paddles.

"Dean…" Sam whispered hoarsely.

"Everybody stand clear!"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut.

Suddenly, the heart monitor stopped alarming. A normal steady rhythm appeared on the screen. Sam opened his eyes. Then, just as suddenly, Dean's eyes flew open and he let out a huge gasp of air.

"Normal sinus rhythm! Respirations restored! Patient appears awake now," one of the nurses called out.

Before anyone could do anything else Dean let out a blood curdling scream. He began swinging at the people near the gurney.

"_Get away from me! Don't touch me you mother fuckers! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill every last mother fucking one of you!"_

He tried to jump off the gurney and it took everyone surrounding him to hold him down.

"Mr. Winchester! It's OK! You're in the hospital!" Dr. Morris yelled out him.

Dean showed no sign of hearing him. _"Not again! I won't let you do it again! I won't do it again! Noooooooo!_"

He continued to fight against the staff. Sam rushed over to him and got in front of his face.

"Dean! Dean, its Sam! I'm right here, Dean! It's OK. You're OK! You're in the hospital! You're safe! No one is going to hurt you!"

Dean saw Sam. He stopped screaming and fighting. Tears filled his eyes.

"Sammy?"

Sam smiled in relief. "Yeah. It's me. It's OK. Stop fighting them, Dean. Let them help you. I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you."

Dean's face visibly relaxed. His body went limp and he closed his eyes, falling asleep. Sam let out a relieved sigh.

Dr. Morris came up next to Sam. "He's OK. We're going to send admit him. We need to keep an eye on him."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dean groggily opened his eyes. He could barely recall ever feeling this shitty in his life, and he had felt pretty bad in the past. His head throbbed with a dull ache and his stomach felt like he had done a million sit ups. His body ached as though he had fought a dozen monsters. And his nose and throat. What the-?

He saw that he was in some sort of hospital room. He was in the hospital bed and to his right he could see and IV pole and a bag of fluids dripping into the chamber through the IV line that was hooked into his right arm. He looked down at his chest and saw a mess of wires connected to stickers on various locations of his chest. He also saw a clear, thick plastic tube with some sort of nasty green liquid in it. When he reached up he realized that the tube went into his nose and was being held in place by tape.

Feeling slightly panicked, he looked around the room and was relieved to see Sam sleeping in a chair nearby.

"Sam," Dean croaked. He couldn't believe how dry his mouth felt. "Sammy!"

Sam stirred and opened his eyes. When he saw Dean looking back at him he bolted up and rushed over to Dean's bed.

"Dean!" Sam said, his voice sounding obviously relieved. "Thank god you're awake! Are you OK?"

"Where the hell am I?" Dean asked frowning. "What the hell happened?"

Sam swallowed hard, his eyes narrowing. "You're in the hospital."

"Did I get attacked or something? I don't remember-"

"You were drinking, Dean. A lot. You drank almost three bottles worth of alcohol."

Dean frowned, trying to remember. "The Jack Daniels I bought?"

Sam nodded.

"Really? I drank that much?"

"Yeah. You did. And when I found you, you were on the floor unconscious and barely breathing."

Dean stared at him, stunned. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. And thank god I called the ambulance. After they got you here you completely stopped breathing and your heart started going crazy. They almost used the paddles on you!"

Dean swallowed hard. "Oh," was all he could say.

"And then when you did finally come back you freaked right out. Started attacking everyone."

Dean shifted uncomfortably in the bed. "Did I hurt anyone?"

Sam sighed. "No. But it worried everyone."

Dean nodded. He finally let out a sigh. "Well, everything's fine now. Go tell the nurse I'm awake so we can get the hell out of here."

He settled back in bed and looked at Sam expectantly. Sam stared at Dean incredulously.

"You can't be serious," Sam said.

"What?"

"Dean, you almost _died_ last night! You almost drank yourself to death!"

"_Almost_, Sam. But I didn't die so I'm fine. So let's get out of here. We have work to do."

Sam's face filled with a rage that startled Dean. Sam folded his arms and shook his head.

"No."

"No? What do you mean no?"

"You are going to stay right here. There's something wrong with you, Dean, and we're not leaving here until it gets fixed."

Dean stared at him for a moment and then chuckled.

"Something wrong with me? What, cuz I over did it a little one time? Look, I didn't eat last night and got distracted watching TV. I wasn't paying attention so I over did it a little. That's it. I'll be more carefully next time. Problem solved."

Sam shook his head furiously. "No! NO! That's not _it_! Dean, I've been watching you and your drinking has gotten way out of hand. I haven't said anything before and it's probably my fault things got this bad. But it's over now. We're going to fix all this!"

"Sam! Dude, come on! I can't believe you're making such a big deal out of this! It was just a onetime thing, that's all! I don't have to drink! I can stop anytime I want to."

"Oh yeah?" Sam arched an eyebrow at him. "Good, cuz we're going to find out. The doctor said you need to stay here for a couple days. They want to watch your heart and they also found some ulcers in your stomach."

"Ulcers? How the hell did they find ulcers in my stomach?"

"They did some kind of scope-thing down your throat and saw them."

Dean glared at Sam. "Dude! What the hell did you let them do to me?"

Sam glared back. "Whatever they said you needed!"

Dean touched the tube in his nose. "And this?"

"It's some kind of tube that sucks the stuff out of your stomach. They said it'll help it to heal."

Dean made a face. "Dude, that is nasty!"

Sam shrugged. "Would you rather have bleeding ulcers? You'd feel real good then!"

Dean rolled his eyes and lay back in the bed. "Whatever."

Sam sat down in the chair. "Seriously, Dean. I just want to make sure everything is OK."

Dean sighed. "I know you do. But I'm fine! I feel crappy today, but I'll be fine tomorrow. Then you'll see and then we can get out of here and do our job."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The rest of the day went well for Dean. The doctor ordered for the tube up his nose to be taken out and said he could eat whatever he could tolerate. While Dean was annoyed with Sam for not agreeing to go out and get him the hamburger and fries he wanted, he settled for the ravioli he got for dinner, which actually wasn't half bad.

Bobby called to let them know that he had some car trouble and wouldn't be there until later tomorrow night. Sam told him that was fine and gave him the update on Dean's condition.

Everything was fine until later that night. Despite Dean insisting he was fine and Sam should sleep at the motel, Sam refused. He told Dean that he wanted to make sure everything really was fine. Sam settled into the recliner the nurse had brought him for the night. Dean closed his eyes, but couldn't help but notice he felt slightly restless. He brushed it off. He wasn't used to being cooped up in a hospital bed. It would go away.

After a fitful night's sleep Dean was feeling more restless. While it wasn't unusual for him to feel annoyed with Sam trying to mother him, today it was much worse. And the appetite he had last night wasn't there. The bed was becoming more uncomfortable and he was constantly fidgeting, trying to get comfortable and get rid of the nervous energy he could feel building.

They were watching TV when the nurse came in to check on him.

"Everything OK, Mr. Winchester?"

"Fine," Dean replied.

The nurse looked at him hard. "Are you sure? You seem kind of restless."

Sam shot Dean a look of concern. Dean felt his annoyance with the nurse grow, but forced a smile on his face.

"I'm fine. Just really ready to go home."

"You're not feeling anxious about anything?"

What the hell was this woman's problem? "I'm _fine_."

The nurse gave him a polite smile. "OK. Just let me know if you need anything."

She left and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Bitch," he muttered under his breath.

Sam looked at him, his eyes displaying his concern. "Are you OK, Dean? You're really antsy today."

"God damn it, Sam! I'm fine, OK? What the hell? I want to get the hell out of here! We have shit we need to do and we're stuck in this god damn hospital!" Dean snapped.

Sam's eyes widened, obviously hurt. Dean inwardly cringed at his reaction.

"I… sorry, Sam. I didn't mean-"

Sam shook his head and looked down. "It's OK. I understand."

They both were quiet and went back to watching the TV. Dean couldn't help but notice how he kept bouncing his right leg in the bed. It was subtle, but there. He also noticed a tremor in his hands that had been present last night, but had gotten worse the last hour. And why was it so hot? He wiped away the sweat that was on his brow. He wasn't sure why he was feeling this way, but he knew he couldn't stand another second of having Sam in the room with him when he felt like this.

"Hey, Sammy."

"Yeah?"

"Could you do me a favor? Maybe run down to the gift shop and get me some magazines or something? I think maybe I'll try to sleep a little. I think I'm a little tired."

Sam smiled at him and Dean could see that he was happy to be able to do something for him.

"Sure, Dean. I can come back in an hour or so. I'll let the nurse know so they can call me if something comes up."

Dean sighed in relief as Sam walked out the door. He didn't know why he felt like shit, but he did know having Sam hovering over him wasn't going to help. He closed his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep. Maybe he was just tired.

What was that smell?

Dean's eyes flew open. The pungent odor filled his nostrils and almost choked him in its intensity. He knew that smell. He had smelled it every day when he was in Hell. Sulfur. Why the fuck was he smelling sulfur?

He sat up in the bed. The heat was becoming stifling now. Sweat rolled down his face and he felt like he could barely breathe. His heart pounded like a jackhammer in his chest. His hands trembled uncontrollably. He could feel the panic rise in his chest. His eyes darted around the room.

And there stood Lillith.

Dean's eyes widened in terror. The little girl, whose body she inhabited, gave him a big smile.

"Hello, Dean! Time to come back to play with us again!"

He swung his legs over the bed and stood up, his eyes never leaving her. "No," he whispered.

She smiled and took a step towards him. "Why, yes, silly. You know you don't belong here. You know what you _really_ are. You're one of us! You even told Sam you liked what you did. And you know you did, Dean. You know how much fun it was to slice those souls open. To make them scream again and again."

Dean's eyes filled with tears and he shook his head furiously. "No! No, I won't do it again!"

Lillith sighed impatiently. "Yes, Dean, you will. You'll say no at first, but we both know it won't take long for you to come back to us. To be one of us again. And you know this time there won't be an angel to save you. You know they definitely won't want you this time!"

Dean backed up against the wall. "You're not real! I'm sick again! I have to be! You're not really here!"

Lillith squealed with girlish laughter. "Silly Dean! Of course I'm real! Just like he's real!" She pointed towards the window. There stood Alastair.

"Hello, Dean!" Alastair said with an evil smile. "I've missed you! Ready to come home?"

Dean looked back and forth between Lillith and Alastair, no longer being able to control his terror.

"I won't go! I'm not going back!" he screamed at them.

He ran forward and scrambled over the bed towards the door. The IV's strained as he pulled away, finally pulling from his arm. Blood began streaming down his right arm and dripping to the floor. He tore off the heart monitor and flung it at Alastair.

"_GET AWAY FROM ME!_" Dean screamed.

"Mr. Winchester!"

His nurse appeared in the doorway. She was looking at him with concern, but then he saw it. Her eyes were black. He staggered back.

"No. No! Get away! Don't touch me! I'll send your ass back to Hell! I don't care what I have to do!"

"What are you talking about? Mr. Winchester, please calm down. It's OK. No one is going to hurt you. Let me help you."

Dean grabbed his water pitcher and threw it as hard as he could at her. She narrowly missed being hit in the head with it.

"_Don't touch me you demon whore!_"

Suddenly, there were two more nurses behind her, both with blackened eyes. Lillith giggled gleefully.

"We're coming, Dean! We're coming to get you!" she giggled.

Dean looked around desperately. He felt so sick, so weak. His head throbbed in agony and his stomach felt as though it was twisted in a massive knot.

"Sam will kill you!" he yelled at Lillith. "He's going to find you! He's going to send you demon ass back to Hell! You know he's gunning for you, Lillith!"

He grabbed the IV pole and held it in front of him, ready to swing it at anyone who came near him. "Don't come any closer!"

"Dean! How about we go get Sam? Do you want to see Sam?" the nurse asked him.

He stared at her, his eyes wide and confused. "He's going to destroy you! He's won't let you do this! He won't let you take me! You think you can beat him, but you can't!"

"Come on, Dean," Alastair said from where he stood. "This is so childish! Put that down and let's go! You know it had to happen eventually. You knew once Sam found out about who you really are it would be over. No one wants you around. Why would someone want a sick fuck like you saving them? Someone who enjoys ripping people apart and listening to them scream. Getting off as you skin them alive! You know _God_ didn't really want you. You know the truth. God just wanted to fuck with you. Show you what a piece of shit you are!"

Tears streamed down Dean's face. The room felt like it was spinning uncontrollably around him and he could barely stand.

"_GO AWAY!_" Dean wailed.

"DEAN!"

Dean looked to see Sam enter the room. His chin began to quiver.

"Sammy?" he asked softly.

"It's me, Dean. It's OK."

"They're trying to take me back, Sammy!" Dean whimpered. "They want me back in Hell! Please… please… I don't want to go back there, Sam."

Sam moved slowly towards Dean, his arms held out.

"No one is taking you, Dean. I won't let them."

"But Lillith and Alastair. They're here, Sam! They're here to take me!"

Sam stopped and frowned in confusion. "Dean, there's no one here. It's just me and the nurses."

Lillith giggled. "He's ly-ing! He's lying to you, Dean!"

"He's fucking with you head, Dean! Look at his eyes! Look at what he really is!" Alastair sneered.

Dean looked at Sam's eyes and his heart sank in horror. Sam's eyes had turned a deep yellow. He felt as if the whole world had been ripped away from him.

"No, Sam! No! What did you do?" Dean wailed, sagging against the wall.

Sam moved quickly. He dove forward and grabbed the IV pole from Dean, shoving it away. Despite catching him off-guard Dean still was ready to fight. He swung at Sam trying to punch him in the head. Sam ducked and rushed him, pinning Dean to the wall. Dean screamed and failed his arms, hitting Sam around the head and arms.

"_Let me go! You mother fucker! You're not Sam! I'll kill you! I'm going to kill every last mother fucking one of you! I'm going to rip you apart!_"

The nurses rushed into the room, one of them carrying a syringe. Two of them grabbed Dean's arms and restrained them. The third nurse reached up and quickly jabbed the needle in his backside, injecting the fluid. Dean let out a howl of pain.

"_MOTHER FUCKERS!!! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! I'M GOING TO KILL EVERY LAST MOTHER FUCKING ONE OF YOU!!!_"

Dean's vision began to grow cloudy. His legs began to weaken and he began sagging in Sam's arms. The nurses let go of his arms and he found that he didn't have the strength to use them. Everything was beginning to feel heavy. He looked across the room and Lillith and Alastair both began fading away. He looked at Sam and saw his eyes were no longer yellow. Dean closed his eyes and passed out.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sam sat silently next to Dean's hospital bed. He had barely been able to control Dean when he had lost it and tried to attack him. It killed him to have to allow the nurses to inject with whatever medicine it was that they gave him. Since then the nurses had been in almost every hour to check Dean. If he began growing restless they gave him more medicine to make him sleep. Every so often Dean would stir, moaning out Sam's name anxiously. Sam would touch Dean's arm and assure him that he was right there. Dean would then relax and fall back asleep.

Sam looked across the room at Bobby, who was sleeping in a chair near the end of Dean's bed. He had arrived about an hour after the incident. He had shaken his head sadly as Sam filled him in.

"It happens, Sam," Bobby told him sadly. "This isn't an easy job and a lot of hunters just use the bottle to self medicate. Keeps the nightmares at bay. I've seen this more times then I'd care to remember. It's Dean, though. He'll pull through this."

Sam wished he could feel as confident. He knew how much Dean had been suffering, especially after the Yellow Fever. It was as if that had been the trigger, the point where Dean had learned that the alcohol would make things better. Would take the edge off the horrible memories that plagued him. Sam wished he knew a way to fix it all. To take away those memories of Hell. To make everything OK. He couldn't help but think he'd much rather be fighting any kind of monster instead of dealing with this. When he was hunting there was always something that he could do. Something he could control. With this, this was out of his control. There were no bones to salt and burn. No demons to exorcise with a Latin phrase. No amount of holy water would wash away the wounds that had left on Dean's soul.

A nurse walked into the room, carrying a new bag of IV fluids. She looked at Sam and smiled gently.

"Hello. I'm Sandy, the nurse for tonight."

Sam smiled politely back. "Hi. I'm Sam, his brother. That's Bobby over there."

She went over to the IV pole and began changing the bags. She looked at Dean while she worked.

"He looks like he's resting comfortably right now."

Sam nodded. "He's been sleeping for the last hour."

"That's good. He's sleeping through the worst of this. It won't be long when he's past all this and will be feeling like himself again."

Sam swallowed hard. He couldn't help but think that Dean was never going to be himself again. That what happened to him in Hell would ultimately destroy him. Sam closed his eyes and felt the tears sting his eyes. He suddenly felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It's going to be OK, Sam. It just takes time. This part here is the hardest."

"I know. It's just… it was never supposed to be this way. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be like this."

Sandy pulled up a chair and sat down beside it. "How was it supposed to be?"

Sam wiped his eyes and shook his head, looking at Dean. "I… I don't know. He was supposed to stay himself. He was supposed to stay… _Dean_."

"So what happened to change that?"

He looked down at his hands. Part of him wanted to tell her everything. Tell her everything that had happened to them. Tell her about the demons and the deals and Hell. He also knew, deep down, that he couldn't. That it would only make things worse.

She let him stay silent for a moment. Then she placed a hand on his arm.

"I read in his report that you told the doctor that he had been drinking to try to cope with some things. Is that right?"

He nodded sadly. "Yeah. He's… he's been through some things. Things most people can't even imagine."

She nodded. "What kind of things? Has he told you about them?"

He felt his chest tighten. He let out a shuddering breath. "He's told me some of it. Won't tell me all of it though. He… he's ashamed about what he's done."

"People do things every day that they regret. Terrible things that they can never change. But it doesn't have to define the rest of their lives. It doesn't have to be who they are."

Sam nodded. "I know. I just wish I could make him understand."

"It takes time. Unfortunately, things don't get better over night."

"I know."

Sandy smiled kindly. "He may need some extra help to get through this. And maybe you as well. Have you ever thought about talking to a professional? Maybe a therapist?"

He let out a bitter chuckle. "I don't think any therapist can help."

She frowned, concerned. "Why would you say that?"

He sighed. "Our problems aren't exactly… conventional."

"You may be surprised. Therapists are used to hearing a lot of things."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Not like us they haven't."

Suddenly, they heard someone clear their throat. They looked over to see Bobby sitting there watching them from his chair. Sandy smiled pleasantly at him.

"Hello! I'm sorry. We didn't mean to wake you."

Bobby held up a hand. "That's OK. I needed to talk to Sam anyways."

She stood up and gently patted Sam on his shoulder.

"It'll get better, Sam. I promise. And just remember we're all here if there's anything you need."

She began walking out the door, but paused for a moment and looked back.

"You know, he's very lucky. Not everyone in his situation has family and friends who care about them."

She turned and left. Sam sighed and looked back at Dean. Booby looked at Sam hard and stood up. He walked over to the chair Sandy had left and sat down in it.

"Sam, you need to watch yourself here," Bobby said in a low voice.

Sam looked at him and frowned. "Why? She's only trying to help!"

Bobby sighed. "I know. But these people can't help him. They can fix the physical hurts and send him on his way. But they can't heal what's hurt his mind. They don't know a damn thing about what he's seen and been through."

Sam sighed in frustration and leaned back in his chair, running a tired hand through his hair.

"So who does, Bobby? We don't have many options. Yeah, we can probably get him to quit drinking, but then what will he do? This is never going to end if we don't find _someone_ who can help him."

"I know."

"So what are we going to do?"

Bobby sat quietly for a moment, thinking. Finally, he slowly nodded his head.

"I have an idea. I need to go make some phone calls, though. Maybe there's another option for Dean."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Dean woke up.

He felt incredibly groggy and his mouth felt like sandpaper. His eyes were blurry when he first opened them and tried to focus on the room he was in. After a few moments he was able to make out the various shapes in the room. He then realized he was in a hospital. The same one he had been in. He turned his head to the right and saw Sam sleeping in the chair next to the bed.

"Sam," Dean croaked. He reached over and tapped the bedside table to make some noise. "Sammy!"

Sam stirred and opened his eyes. He looked at Dean and sat up.

"Dean! You're awake!"

"Yeah. Dude, I need something to drink. My mouth feels like crap."

Sam grabbed a cup and filled it with water from the pitcher on the bedside table. He sat Dean up in the bed and passed him the cup. Dean greedily drank it down.

"Ah, that's better. Thanks, Sam," he said, laying back. He looked around the room some more. "So how long have I been out?"

"About a day. They've been keeping you pretty sedated."

Dean shifted in the bed to get comfortable and felt something tug in particularly sensitive place. He frowned and looked under the blanket to check. His eyes widened in horror.

"Dude! What the hell is this?"

"What!?"

"There is a _tube_ going into a place where it does _not_ belong!"

Sam smirked. "Dean, relax. It's just a catheter. It's so you wouldn't piss all over the bed."

Dean glared at him. "Sam, that is an "exit only" area! _Nothing_ should be going up in there!" He threw the blankets off and gingerly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Where's the nurse? This thing needs to come out!"

Sam couldn't help but laugh at Dean's reaction. "Relax. She'll be back in a little while."

Dean frowned furiously. "Glad to see you enjoying me having tubes stuck in unnatural places!"

"Hey, I'm just glad to see you awake and acting like yourself."

Dean looked at Sam confused. "Why? What did I do?"

Sam looked concerned. "You don't remember?"

Dean shook his head slowly. "I remember… being here. You telling me I had to stay for a couple days. Last thing I remember I felt like shit. You… you were going to the gift shop or something. I was going to sleep for awhile. But that's about it. I think…" His voice trailed off.

Sam swallowed nervously and looked away for a minute. He hated to tell Dean what happened, but he also knew how pissed he would be learning it from someone else.

"You… um… you had kind of an… episode…"

Dean arched an eyebrow at him. "Episode?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. It was from the withdrawals…"

Dean looked at him, waiting. "And…?"

"Well… you started hallucinating. After I left."

Dean felt his heart speed up. Slowly, vague, distorted memories began coming back to him. He took a deep breath.

"So, what exactly did I do?"

Sam shifted nervously in his seat. He stared down at his hands. "You… started seeing things. You got out of bed, pulled out all you IVs and bled all over the place. Then you started talking to people who weren't there. That's what your nurse told me."

Dean was remembering. He remembered seeing Lillith and Alastair. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hand. "I went nuts, didn't I?"

Sam reluctantly nodded. "You were yelling. You thought everyone was possessed. You thought I was when I got back. I was the only one who could hold you down so they could give you medication to make it stop."

Dean looked at Sam, his eyes filled with sadness. "Did I hurt anyone?"

"No! No. You just… well, put up a good fight. It was a good thing you were sick anyway, otherwise I would have had a hard time stopping you! But, hey, don't worry about it. No one got hurt and they know it was because you were sick."

Dean shook his head, obviously upset. "But I said stuff, didn't I? I sounded like a crazy freak. They probably think I'm a nut job now."

"Dean, no one thinks you're crazy. They know…"

Dean's head shot up and he looked at Sam. "What do you mean they know?"

Sam sighed. "Look, I had to tell them something. I just told them that you had gone through some hard times and were…"

"What? I was what?"

"You… you were having some trouble dealing with it."

"Jesus, Sam!"

"Dean, what the hell was I going to say? They knew something was wrong! And I didn't tell them what happened. But I had to say something otherwise they would have tried getting it from you! And you've been drugged up enough you would have told someone what happened."

Dean ran his hand over his face in frustration. "So you didn't say anything about Hell?"

"Christ, Dean, of course not! I knew enough to not say anything about that!"

"Good. Then we just need to get the hell out of here before anyone else starts asking questions."

"No. Not yet."

Dean stared at Sam incredulously. "What?"

"Dean we are not leaving here until I know you're going to be OK."

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes in frustration. "Jesus Christ, Sam, not this again! Is it the drinking? Fine. I'll never drink again if that's what you want! If that will make you stop worrying so we can leave then fine."

"It's not just the drinking, Dean! It's the reason why you were drinking!"

"Sam," Dean said warningly.

"I mean it! God, you haven't been yourself for months now!"

"Well, I'm sorry that I've had some things on my mind!"

"But you won't tell me about them! You won't let me help you!"

"There's nothing else to tell! I've told you everything!"

"You don't tell me when it's bothering you, though! You don't tell me about the nightmares! You don't always tell me when things remind you of what happened."

"I'm dealing with it, Sam! I don't need to tell you every thought and feeling that crosses my mind about Hell!"

"The only thing I've seen you do to deal with it is drink!"

"And I said I would stop! So what the hell is the big deal?"

"So how will you deal with it now? Besides driving around the country without sleeping looking for another job? Or are you going to start using something else? Drugs?"

Dean looked at Sam like he was insane. "Are you freaking kidding me? What kind of moron do you think I am?"

Sam ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dean. I don't like this, though. I… you… this can't happen again. Jesus, Dean. You can't die again. You can't leave me like that again."

There was a quiet pause in the room as Dean absorbed Sam's words. They struck his heart and it stung to hear the raw emotion behind them. He wanted to say something to remove Sam's fears. To make him stop worrying. Nothing would come to mind, not even a smart alec remark. Deep down he knew everything Sam said was true. It was a fact he hated to admit to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The rest of the morning the brothers sat in the hospital room quietly watching TV, both unsure of what to say to the other. Sam sat and worried about how he was going to handle Dean once he left the hospital. Dean was worried about how he was going to manage not drinking anymore. He knew he had to, that Sam was going to constantly worry about him if he didn't. But how was he going to stop long term?

After lunch a doctor entered the room. He was an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and brown eyes. He smiled politely at them when he entered.

"Hello, gentlemen. My name is Dr. Black."

"Hi," Sam said, standing up and shaking his hand. "I'm Sam, Dean's brother."

"Hello, Sam," Dr. Black said, shaking Sam's hand. He looked over at Dean and extended his hand towards him. "And you must be Dean."

"Yeah," Dean said, shaking his hand. "So which doctor are you for?"

"Actually, I'm one of the psychiatrists here at the hospital."

Dean shot Sam a look. Sam held his hands up.

"It wasn't me, Dean!"

Dr. Black chuckled. "Don't worry, Dean. Your brother had nothing to do with it. I actually come to talk to a lot of the patients who have gone through what you just did. Is it OK with you if we just have a talk?"

Dean felt hesitant. He really had no desire to talk to this guy, especially since he knew it wouldn't help. But he could also see the hopeful look in Sam's eyes. He knew Sam would feel better if he talked to the shrink.

Dean forced a smile. "Sure. Why not?"

Dr. Black smiled and sat in the chair next to Dean's bed. Sam began heading for the door.

"I'll let you guys have some privacy," he said before leaving.

Dean scowled at him for leaving. He shifted nervously in the bed. Dr. Black took out a worn notebook and flipped it open. He then pulled out a pen and uncapped it.

"So, Dean, how are you feeling today?"

"Fine. Better," Dean said carefully. He wanted to watch what he was saying. God only knows how this guy would analyze him!

"Good, I'm glad to hear that," Dr. Black replied, writing something down. "So, is there anything in particular you want to talk about today?"

Dean smiled politely and shook his head. "No, sir, whatever you want to talk about is fine."

"OK. That's fine, Dean. Well, how about we talk about what brought you here. Can you tell me what happened that day?"

Dean shrugged. "Not much to tell. I drank too much and passed out. Sam brought me in."

"How about we go back a little further? What specifically happened leading up to your drinking?"

"Well, um, Sam went to the library. He wanted to do some… reading. He likes to read. A lot. So I didn't have a whole lot to do so I bought us some food. Then stopped at the liquor store, saw they had Jack Daniels on sale. Bought three bottles and went back to the motel. Started watching TV. Figured I'd have a few drinks. I guess I wasn't paying attention to how much I had."

Dr. Black nodded, making more notes in the notebook. "I see. So, do you normally buy that much alcohol?"

"Oh, no. That stuff is expensive. I usually will buy a bottle or two, just when I need to refill my flask."

"And how often is that?"

Dean hesitated. "Well… it's been a little more often than usual…"

"What's more than usual?"

"It doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, I already promised Sam I wasn't going to drink anymore. And I won't. Really."

Dr. Black nodded slowly. "That's good, Dean. But I want to know how often you've been refilling your flask."

Dean looked at him and then down at his hands, trying to force a confident smile.

"It was just a couple times a week. Lately it had been every day. But, like I said, it doesn't matter now."

"Well, can you tell me why you would drink from the flask? You said that from before it wasn't every day until recently."

"Well, just to help me relax a little."

"Is your life stressful, Dean?"

_Dude, you don't know the half of it!_ Dean thought to himself.

"It can be. Sometimes."

"I see." Pause. "You live with your brother, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Does he find your lives stressful?"

"I guess… he just handles things differently."

"How does he handle things?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. He… he likes to talk and stuff. I guess."

"You don't like to talk?"

"Not really."

"Well, Dean, I think this conversation is going very well. Do you?"

_Damn shrinks talk about the weirdest shit!_ "Yeah, I guess."

"How about we talk about something else? How about we talk about Sam?"

"What about him?"

"What do you think of your brother?"

"What do I think about Sam?"

"Yes."

"Well… I dunno. He's… Sam."

"Are you two close?"

"Yeah. We've gotten a lot closer over the years."

"Were you close growing up?"

"Yeah. Kind of. I basically raised him anyway. When Dad was gone."

"Your mother wasn't around?"

"She died when I was four."

"I see. So it was just you, Sam, and your father?"

"Yeah."

"Where did you live growing up?"

"Well, we moved a lot. Dad's work made him have to… travel. A lot."

"That must have been difficult for you."

Dean shook his head. "Not really. I liked it."

"Really? What did you like about it?"

"I dunno. I guess because you didn't have to deal with the same people every day. If someone was a jerk it didn't matter. You would be leaving in a few days anyways."

"Did you have friends?"

"I always met people to hang out with. I wouldn't really call them friends."

"Did you date?"

A wide grin grew on Dean's face. "Well, I can't really say I _dated_."

"What would you call it?"

"I got lucky. A lot."

"I see. But you didn't keep in contact with anyone you went to school with?"

"No. Didn't see the point."

Dr. Black nodded, looking over his notes.

"Well, Dean, since I've gotten to know you a little bit better, I want to go back to what we were discussing earlier."

"What were we discussing?"

"What brought on this increase in your drinking? You said before that you were drinking more because your life was more stressful, correct?"

Dean shifted nervously in the bed. "Is that what I said?"

"Yes, Dean."

"Oh."

"So what exactly happened, Dean? When did things become more stressful for you?"

Dean felt his stomach tightened. This wasn't the way he had wanted the conversation to go. He had been relieved earlier that the conversation had gone a different way. He could make up whatever stories he wanted about his childhood. And even talking about Sam wasn't that big of a deal. This, however, was a lot trickier.

_Yes, doc, it all started when the Yellow-Eyed demon kidnapped Sam and got this other guy to kill him. I made a deal with a crossroads demon to bring Sam back to life in exchange for my own life. I got a year to live and Sam came back to life. Sam tried everything to keep me alive, but I got ripped apart by hellhounds and went to Hell for four months, but for me was actually seventy years. I was tortured daily until I caved and began torturing other souls and took a sick pleasure in it. Then I was raised from the dead by an angel named Castiel who said God has work for me. I'm trying to keep Sam from going darkside by having him not use his powers, even though he's used them to save people. Then there's the demon, Lillith, who's trying to break the 66 seals and release Lucifer and Hell on Earth. So Sam and I are helping the angels try and stop her. Meanwhile I'm having horrible nightmares regularly about my time in Hell and got Yellow Fever that made me relieve pretty much my time in Hell. And now the angels are pissed at me and the demons are after me. So, yeah. I'm a little stressed out!_

Yeah… that will not work.

"The economy," Dean suddenly blurted out.

"The economy?" Dr. Black asked.

_Where the hell did that come from?_ "Yeah, I mean, times are pretty tough right now. Money's been tight and Sam and I have been struggling to make ends meet. I try to keep it from him cuz I don't want him to worry. But sometimes it all gets to me and I have a few drinks. Never thought it would get this out of hand." Dean buried his face in his hands, trying to look upset.

"I see. You know, Dean, there are programs out there that can help you."

"Oh, no, I couldn't. I was raised to not take handouts. I'd be ashamed to have to ask for help like that."

Dr. Black put a hand on his shoulder. "There's no shame in asking for help once in a while, Dean. Especially when it can help you get back on your feet."

Dean sighed reluctantly. "I suppose…"

Dr. Black stood up. "I'm going to give you a list of programs that you can call for some assistance. I also would like you to have a few more therapy sessions. There are still some areas I would like to address with you, but I think we can work something out on an outpatient basis."

Dean gave him a watery smile. He had managed to work up a couple tears. "Thank you, doc. You're a good man!"

Dr. Black smiled and shook his hand.

"I'll talk to you later, Dean." He turned and left.

Once Dean saw he was gone he let out a huge sigh of relief and closed his eyes.

_Damn, that was close!_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"The _economy_?"

"What?"

"You told the doctor you were depressed and drinking because the _economy_ is bad?"

"Hey, it was a good excuse! And it is depressing me. Do you know how much its cost me to keep my baby filled with gas every week? It's been brutal!"

Sam threw his hands up in the air in annoyance. "I can't believe you lied to him!"

"Yes, because telling him the truth would have worked out so much better for me."

"He's just trying to help, Dean!"

"Dammit, I _know_, Sam! But he can't help me! No one here can! All they're going to do to me is lock me up in the loony bin and throw away the key! Or is that what you want?"

"No! No, Dean! I don't- dammit!" Sam ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know, Dean. I don't want you locked away. But I don't want to find you comatose on a motel room floor again either!"

"I said I was going to stop drinking."

"But you're still not dealing with the real issue!"

"Jesus Christ, Sam! How many more times do we have to have the conversation!?"

"Until you finally get it! Until you finally listen to me and _deal_ with this! With what's happened!"

"I've dealt with it!"

"No, you haven't!"

"And how would you know that?"

"Because I'm the one that found you almost dead on the floor and hauled your ass to the hospital! That's not coping, Dean! That's suicide!"

"Seriously, Sam, you think I want to die? I know where I'm going to wind up if I die again. And I know damn well that nothing will save me next time. So, no, I'm not trying to off myself."

"Um, excuse me."

The brothers stopped talking and turned to look. One of the nurses was standing in the doorway with Dr. Black. The nurse was smiling politely.

"Dean, Sam, Dr. Black wanted to speak with both of you," she said.

"Um, yeah, sure," Sam said, sitting up straight.

Dean felt a knot form in his stomach, but he forced a smile on his face. "No problem. Come on in."

Dr. Black walked in and sat down in one of the empty chairs near the bed.

"I'm glad I'm able to speak with both of you. I have been reviewing Dean's case and I believe we can definitely work together and develop a plan to help treat this problem."

Dean felt hesitant, but Sam smiled with relief.

"Doctor, that's great!"

Dr. Black held up a hand. There are a few things that need to be addressed first, though. While I had a good conversation with Dean earlier, I believe there are deeper issues that we didn't touch upon yet. He is going to require many therapy sessions so those issues can be addressed."

"That's fine," Dean said quickly. "You can send me home and I'll just come in and meet with you for the therapy. No big deal!"

Dr. Black sighed. "I'm afraid, Dean, it's not going to be quite the simple."

"What?"

"My concern, Dean, is once you return home you will quickly lapse back into your old habits. I want to help you establish new coping skills and help you deal with your underlying problems before you return home."

"So, what does that mean?" Sam asked nervously.

"Well, Sam, I would like to admit Dean into our mental health unit for a few days. It would provide him a safe environment and we can meet regularly for therapy, even start him on a medication regime to help treat him."

Dean's heart began thundering in his chest. "So you're locking me up in the nut house."

"We're not locking you up, Dean. You will be a patient there, with rights and privileges. I want you there for your own safety."

Dean shook his head furiously. "No way. No. I'm not doing it."

"Dean-"

"No! I'm not fucking crazy and I don't need to be locked up in a nut house with people trying to drug me up so I'm happy 24/7. I'm not doing it, so thanks, but no thanks, doc. I'll take my own chances."

"Dean, I understand this is difficult for you, but I would rather you agree to this plan."

"Oh yeah? And why is that?"

"It would be for your benefit to agree as it shows you're accepting that you have a problem and that is the first step to recovery. But, regardless, if you don't agree I'm afraid that I do have the power to admit you whether you want to be or not."

Sam and Dean looked at each other in panic. Sam looked back at the doctor.

"Doctor, I really never wanted Dean to be admitted!"

"I understand, Sam, but I think in your brother's case it would be the best option. I am very concerned about his safety and well-being."

"I'm safe!" Dean protested.

"I'm afraid this incident, Dean, makes me question your judgment about your safety. I don't believe you make the best choices when it comes to what's best for you."

Sam began racking his brain. He knew that what the doctor was saying was true, but Sam also knew that the least safest place for Dean would be on a locked mental ward. Lillith and Alistair would find him in no time and who knows what they would do to him.

"I don't care what you say, I'm not going! I don't need to need to be on a mental ward! I can handle this fine on my own!"

"Dean-"

"No one is getting locked up on any mental ward," a voice said from the doorway.

The three men turned and saw Bobby standing there. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand.

"Doc, I'm Bobby Singer, close friend of Dean's," Bobby said walking over to them. "I have a number here for you to call. It's a psychiatrist who's agreed to take on Dean's case."

Dr. Black stood up and took the paper from Bobby. He read it, a surprised look on his face.

"Dr. Leonard Morgan. Is it the same-"

"Yes, sir," Bobby said with a nod.

"I'm surprised. I thought I had heard he had retired."

"He had. He's an old friend of mine, though. I spoke with him and he agreed to come out of retirement to take Dean's case."

"I see. Well, I would like to speak with him and get everything set up. Would you excuse me?"

Dr. Black walked out of the room. As soon as they were alone all three men let out sighs of relief.

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam said.

"Yeah, thanks! I didn't know how I was going to get out of that one!" Dean said.

Bobby gave Dean a hard look.

"I only got you out of getting set to the mental ward. Everything else it true. I talk to Leo and he said to head on over as soon as you get out of the hospital. He lives a couple miles from my place so you and Sam are going to be staying with me for a while."

"Wait… what?" Dean looked at him startled. "You mean you're actually going to make me see a shrink?"

Bobby glared at him. "Damn right you're going to see him, you idgit! You damn near killed yourself trying to deal with everything on your own. You're not talking to me or Sam. So this is your only option. Either you take it or I'll tell that doctor that you need to be admitted! Take your pick!"

Dean swallowed hard. He looked at Sam. Sam's face was filled with concern, but he could also see the glimmer of hope. Dean rolled his eyes and threw up his hands.

"Fine. I'll go."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Dean rode in the car next to Bobby. Dr. Black had agreed to discharge him under the condition that he receive treatment under the care of this Dr. Morgan. Dean had been hoping that Bobby would let him get out of it once they left the hospital, but Bobby had ordered him to ride with him the whole way there. So much for trying to make a getaway.

It took about three days to make it back to Bobby's house. After they had put away their things in one of the spare rooms he drove them over to Dr. Morgan's house.

Dean hadn't been sure about what to expect when they got there. All Bobby would say about the man was that he knew how to help. Yeah, that said a lot.

The house at the end of the long driveway was tucked back behind large pine trees. It was a modest two-storied house with a large garage to the right of it. On the porch sat an elderly gentleman who was reading a book. He looked up when he heard Bobby's car roll down the driveway and rose to his feet. After Bobby stopped the car and got out the man gave him a wave.

"Bobby Singer! Good to see you!" the man said, walking over to the top of the porch steps.

"Leo! Good to see you too!" Bobby said with a smile. He walked up the steps and gave Leo a hug and pat on the back. "It's been a few years."

"Yes, it has. Good to see you're still kicking around. I've wondered how you made out since I saw you last."

"Well, you know how life is. I've been keeping busy with hunting and all."

"Oh yeah. I know how that can be." Leo looked over at Sam and Dean who were standing next to the car still. "I take it those are the brothers there?"

"Yes, sir. Sam! Dean! Get over!" Bobby called to them. "This is Dr. Leonard Morgan."

Sam and Dean walked over. Sam smiled politely and stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Sam."

Dr. Morgan smiled and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Sam." He then looked over at Dean who was standing a few feet behind him. "And this must be Dean."

Dean forced a calm, confident smile on his face and stuck his hand out. "In the flesh."

Dr. Morgan shook it, his eyes not leaving Dean. A wry smile was on his lips.

"Goodness, but don't you have your father's smile," he said shaking his head. "Got your momma's hair, but that smile of yours is John Winchester's through and through!"

Sam and Dean both looked startled at this statement.

"You knew our father?" Sam asked in surprise.

Dr. Morgan nodded, chuckling. "Sure did. That bastard was the most stubborn SOB I had ever met! But then, I guess you don't become a Marine by being a pushover. Good man though. Good man. Sorry to hear about his passing."

"How did you know him?" Sam asked.

"He was one of my patients."

Both Sam and Dean stared at him, stunned. Bobby sighed.

"Boys, Leo here has probably had almost every Hunter in North America as a patient!"

"That's about right. You don't hunt all the monsters in the night without having one or two that you just can't shake. And that's my job. To help those people deal with it."

"So, you know about Hunters?" Dean asked.

"Know about 'em? Hell, I would have done more of it myself except my old ticker decided it couldn't keep up with the lifestyle!" He tapped the center of his chest thoughtfully. "I figured I could do more good doing what I do best. Letting people talk and being there to listen and guide. Speaking of which, Dean, you and I have an appointment!"

He walked over to the front door and opened it, gesturing for Dean to enter. "Bobby, we should be done in about an hour or so. You and Sam can go do whatever."

Dean shot Sam a look. Sam gave him a hopeful smile back. Reluctantly, Dean turned and went inside. Sam and Bobby headed back to the car and left.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Dean followed Dr. Morgan into his office. He was slightly surprised to find it to be a well lit, almost cheery office. The walls were painted an off-white color, a fica tree stood in the corner, and there were sliding glass doors that led out to a deck that looked over a lawn that led down to a lakeshore. There was a large oak wood desk with various office supplies scattered across it. Against one wall stood a large oak bookcase with various books and photos set up on it. Against another wall was a large, comfy looking leather loveseat with a straight back chair sitting close by.

No pentagrams. No crystals. No salt lines. No guns. No silver. No rows of Holy Water ready to be grabbed at a moment's notice. No ancient tomes written in Latin that would require someone to pour over them for hours on end.

It was… ordinary. _Normal_.

"Nice office," Dean said casually, looking around.

Dr. Morgan smiled ruefully. "I admit it looks better than it used to. I don't know if Bobby mentioned it, but I'm retired."

"Yeah? So why take my case?"

Dr. Morgan sat down in the straight back chair and motioned for Dean to sit on the loveseat. "What can I say? I was curious to meet the man I had heard so much about."

Dean sat down and arched an eyebrow at him. "Heard a lot about me, huh? From who?"

"Well, from Bobby, naturally. He told me about you when he brought me your case. Then there was your father. He rather enjoyed talking about you and your brother."

"Really? Is that right?"

"Yes, indeed."

"See, now, I find that pretty hard to believe?"

"Really? And why is that?"

"Well, no offense, but I can't see my father talking to some shrink about our family's problems. No offense, doc."

"None taken." Dr. Morgan smiled and slowly shook his head. "And I can understand your disbelief. Your father was a very private man. Certainly not one given to discusses his feelings on a whim."

"Exactly. So why would he come talk to you?"

He sighed and shook his head firmly. "I don't mind telling you your father's stories, but perhaps at a later time. Why don't we talk about some other things first?" He reached into his pocket and drew out a small digital recorder, clicked it on and set on the stand next to the loveseat. "Do you mind being recorded? It's not something I like to employ, but I'm not as young as I used to be and cannot write as quickly as I used to. I assure you after I review it later it will be deleted immediately."

Dean shrugged casually. "Doesn't bother me."

"Good. So, Dean, what would you like to talk about?"

"Aren't you supposed to tell me what we're talking about?"

"Not necessarily. I may steer a conversation if I do not think it's going to be productive, but I prefer to allow my clients to choose what they discuss."

"Oh. OK." Dean's eyes wandered around the room, finally landing on a photograph on the bookshelf. He pointed to it. "That's a nice family photo."

Dr. Morgan turned to look at it and smiled. "That is my daughter with her family. Her name is Jennifer. That's her husband, Bryan, and the twins, Emma and Jackson."

"And she turned out normal, huh? Even though you dealt with hunting all the time?"

"Well, I tried to not involve her in it as much as I could. Her mother really wanted nothing to do with it so I tried to accept her wishes. Jen was curious and she knows some things. But, overall, has learned to live it."

"Where's her mom?"

"My wife passed away when Jen was 15. Ovarian cancer. That was, oh, twenty years ago now."

"Oh. Sorry."

"No need to be sorry. Tragedy happens. You grieve. And then you choose how to manage your grief. Jen chose to direct her grief into taking care of those suffering her mother's disease. She's a nurse on an oncology unit and she tries to be the best mother she can be to the twins."

"Oh. Yeah, that's great."

Dr. Morgan smiled gently and leaned back in his chair.

"So, Dean, why don't we go back a little and talk about your family?"

"What about them?"

"Well, I know your mother died when you were young."

"Yeah."

"How old were you?"

Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I was four."

"What do you remember about your mother?"

Dean hesitated. "Well… I dunno. That was a long time ago."

"Try to think back."

"Well… I remember… it's funny actually… but I remember she always smelled like flowers. It was probably some perfume or something she always wore. But she always smelled good. And… she never seemed to get mad. Even if I did something wrong. She would start to get upset… but… it never really lasted. She would just look sad and tell me not to do it again."

"And did you do it again?"

Dean shook his head, his mind lost in his memories. "No. I never did. I… I hated seeing her sad…"

"Why? Why did you hate seeing her sad?"

"She… it was the… the look she would get. Like… she wouldn't just be sad or mad at me. It… it was like her heart would… I dunno…"

"Her heart would what, Dean?"

"It's… its dumb…"

"It's not dumb, Dean. Her heart would what?"

"It… it was almost like her heart was just break in front of me. Like it was so… painful for her… like it hurt her to be mad at me."

"And what do you think about that now?"

Dean looked up at Dr. Morgan and hesitated. He wasn't used to talking about his mother, not to anyone. He rarely even talked about her to Sam. He thought back to when Castiel had taken him back in time and showed him the deal she had made. He hadn't told Sam about the deal. He hadn't wanted to burden him with it. But after that everything had made sense. Everything he could remember about her as a child. The looks she would get on her face. As if it was painful for her to see her life and what she had.

"I… I understand it… now."

"What do you understand?"

"Why she was so sad."

"What was she sad about?"

Dean buried his face in his hands. He could feel the tears beginning to prick his eyes. Damn, where was all this coming from? He desperately wanted to bury all the raw emotions bubbling up inside of him. Instinctively, he reached for the flask he had always kept in his pocket, only realizing at the last second that it wasn't there. He wanted the conversation to stop. He didn't want to think about these things.

And yet… he felt an overwhelming desire to talk. To unleash every thought and feeling he had kept bottled up inside of him. He risked a glance at the doctor. Dr. Morgan was simply sitting there quietly, watching him. No look of judgment on his face. No look of annoyance, disgust, or even discomfort at his reactions. Just… patience.

"I… I haven't told anyone else about this…"

"That's OK, Dean. I won't tell anyone."

"Well… one person… well… he's sort of a person… actually… he's an angel… he's the only one who really knows…"

Dean honestly never thought he could ever seriously tell someone that. He glanced up again to check the doctor's reaction. It remained unchanged.

"And I'm sure he would never tell anyone else, would he?"

Dean shook his head. "No. I… I guess he wouldn't."

"So what does he know, Dean?"

Dean swallowed hard. His emotions grated raw inside him, no longer tempered with the self medicated doses of alcohol.

"She… she… um…" Damn, why was he crying? He shook his head, trying to control himself. He couldn't believe he was telling these things to a perfect stranger.

"Take your time, Dean."

"She's wasn't a terrible person!" Dean blurted out. Why the hell had he said that?

"Why would you worry that I would think that?"

Dean shook his head, wiping away a tear that had managed to escape.

"Look… I… I don't know what the hell I'm saying. It's… it's nothing, OK? It must be the withdrawals, right? I haven't had a drink in a week now. And isn't that what we should be talking about? My drinking? That's the point of all this, right?"

Dr. Morgan nodded slowly. "Yes, Dean. The main purpose of these meetings is to discuss your drinking."

"So let's discuss that."

"OK, then, Dean. How long have you been drinking for?"

Dean tried to think back and switch his mind over to the new topic. "I… I don't know exactly… I think maybe when I was 16…?

"You were underage?"

"Yeah, well… Dad would let me have a beer with him once in awhile. And then I got my fake ID. Then I got really good at making my own. I looked old enough anyway to get away with it."

"How much did you drink back then?"

Dean felt himself relax some now that the conversation had changed. This was a subject he could handle. "Not much. A beer or two couple times a week. I had to stay focused. I had to get through school and taking care of Sam. Then there was the hunting. You know how it is. You can't be drunk doing that. You have to stay clear, focused."

Dr. Morgan nodded. "So the drinking then was for what exactly?"

Dean shrugged. "I relax a little. Unwind after a hunt. No big deal."

"But, eventually, it became something more, right?"

Dean looked at him and gave him a smirk. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So when was that?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I didn't really pay attention."

"Is that the truth, Dean?"

Dean looked at him, surprised. "What?"

"Well, you told your doctor at the hospital you started drinking because of the economy, correct?"

Dean shifted on the couch. "Um, yeah, I guess I did."

"Now, I think we both know that is a bullshit answer that you gave him so you wouldn't have to try to explain the truth. Or that the truth isn't something he would believe. So, if that is the case, you know when it all started. Correct?"

Damn, how the hell did this guy know this stuff? Dean nodded uncomfortably. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So you started drinking socially at 16, am I correct? Just a couple beers a few times a week after a hunt. Just to unwind. You had responsibilities that made it so you couldn't over do it. You had to stay clear headed."

"Yeah. Exactly."

"So when did things change, Dean? Something changed where you felt like you didn't have to be so careful, so responsible. You finished school. You kept hunting. And you still had Sam to watch over. So what happened to change things?"

Dean felt the memories flood back to him in torrents. Yeah, drinking hadn't been a big deal. It was just something they did to relax. Just a couple beers. As a family. They would go on a hunt and then celebrate their success with take out and some beers. Those brief moments when they were together. Happy. A family.

"Sam."

"What about Sam?"

"He… Sam left."

"When did he leave?"

"When he graduated from high school."

"Where did he go?"

"College. Stanford."

"Did he tell you he was going to leave?"

"Not until the night he left."

"What happened?"

"He… he told Dad that he got accepted to Stanford and he was going no matter what Dad said. They had a fight. Dad told him if he left… " Dean shook his head at the memory. "He said not to come back. So Sam just left."

"That must have been difficult for you."

"Yeah…"

"How did it make you feel when Sam left?"

Dean looked down at his hands and moistened his lips that he found had gone bone dry.

"You… you're not going to say anything to Sam, are you?"

Dr. Morgan shook his head solemnly. "Whatever is said here, Dean, is strictly between you and me. No one else."

Dean nodded slowly.

"No one ever asked me how I felt about it."

"I'm asking you now."

Dean closed his eyes. "I hated him."

Silence. "Why did you hate him?"

"I hated him for leaving us. For just… abandoning us just so he could chase after his own dreams. Like what we had for him wasn't good enough. Like… his own family wasn't good enough for him. After everything we had been through. All the times Dad saved him from the monsters. After all the times we worked together as a family. That wasn't good enough for him. He… he acted like he was… I don't know… better than us. Like his _normal_ life was better."

"Dean, I noticed you say _we_ and _us_ a lot."

"Yeah?"

"I want to hear _your_ feelings. Want you to start saying things like _I _and _me_. Do you think you can do that?"

Dean looked at him, startled at the requested, but shrugged nonchalantly. "Um, sure, I guess so."

"Good. So, tell me again about how _you_ felt when Sam left. You individually."

"Well… I… I was angry…"

Dr. Morgan nodded, not saying anything.

"I… um… I guess I felt like he thought he was better…"

"Better than what, Dean?"

Dean swallowed hard, not really wanting to say it, but knowing it was true, deep down inside.

"Me. I felt like… he thought he was better than… me. He could… he could go off to college and be all normal and shit. And me… I couldn't."

"And why couldn't you do that, Dean?"

Dean looked at him in shock.

"Because! I had a responsibility! Dad depended on me and I know you just don't bail on your family! I had a responsibility to Dad and… and to Mom! I had a responsibility to… to help Dad! We had to find out who killed Mom! Sam… he… he just didn't get it! He didn't get why it was so important! He thought the only important thing was to be _normal_! To go to college! To get married and have two and half kids with the damn dog and the white picket fence! And me, well, I just thought that was all bullshit, you know? I thought he was fucking nuts! And… and I _hated_ him for it! I hated that he just didn't get it! And I hated that he… he didn't respect me anymore! Christ, he used to follow me everywhere I would go! He always said he wanted to be just like me! But then it all changed and suddenly what I was wasn't good enough for him anymore. I was just some fucking nut job that didn't fit in with his _normal_ life! I mean, fuck! I did everything for him! That night… the night Mom died… Dad put him in my arms and I carried him out of that fire! That night Dad told me he was my responsibility! _Mine_! It was my job to take care of him! So I did! I did everything I could to take care of him! Because I saw what could happen to him if I didn't! I learned fast what the monsters would do to him! So I protected him! I became the perfect soldier that Dad made me to be because I believed that if I did that I could protect him and Sam would look up to me and respect me and everything would be OK! We'd find Mom's killer and then somehow everything would be OK! But he fucked all that up! He fucking left! He just walked out and left! And he never even called! Christ, something could have killed him and we would never have known! Hell, Dad and I could have died and he wouldn't have found out! So, you wanna know how I felt about that? You wanna know how that made me feel? I felt like _shit_! I felt like scum because my own brother just decided I wasn't good enough so he left! So that's when I started drinking! So I wouldn't have to think about what a piece of shit I obviously was! Because when he left I had no one! Dad was pissed off and wouldn't talk to me for weeks! Other than to give me some order! I fucking had no one! So I drank so I wouldn't have to think about him anymore! So I wouldn't have to think about how worthless I am!"

Dean buried his hands in his face, the tears rolling down his cheeks freely. He was shaking, stunned at what he had just allowed himself to say. He had never once told anyone about those feelings he had when Sam left. He hadn't even told Sam when he came back. In fact, he had been so ashamed for feeling that way that he had buried it inside of him. That hadn't been hard since no had ever asked how he felt about it.

Until now.

Dr. Morgan sat quietly while Dean struggled to regain his composure. He quietly reached back and picked up the box of tissues and passed then over to Dean. Dean gratefully took one and wiped his face with it.

"Dean," Dr. Morgan said quietly after a moment. "You said you have never told anyone this before."

Dean nodded, not trusting his voice.

"How do you feel now after telling me this?"

Dean swallowed hard. "I… I don't know…"

"Take your time."

"I… I guess… almost… relieved actually."

"And why do you feel relieved?"

"Well, I guess because you're not looking at me like I'm the biggest douche bag on the planet."

Dr. Morgan smiled gently at him. "There's nothing wrong with admitting your feelings, Dean. Your emotions regarding that situation are not uncommon or surprising. The way you chose to cope with the feelings may not have been the healthiest for you, but that was has you chose to cope. Do you hate your brother now?"

"No! No, I… don't hate him."

"And there's a lot more we need to discuss, Dean Unfortunately, I believe our time is up for today."

Dean looked over at the clock on the wall and was startled to see that almost an entire had passed. Outside he could hear Bobby's car roll down the driveway.

Dr. Morgan stood up. "If you are up to it, Dean I would like to meet with you again tomorrow. One of the benefits to retirement is my schedule is fully open! Shall we say, same time tomorrow afternoon?"

Dean stood up and nodded. "Um, yeah. Yeah, that's… yeah."

The doctor patted him on the back and led him back out to the front porch where Bobby and Sam were waiting for him.

***

Dean stared out the passenger window, his mind lost in the sea of thoughts the therapy session had released. He didn't know what to think or how he felt about it all. Suddenly, he heard Sam clear his throat in the backseat.

"So, Dean. What did you guys talk about?"

Dean quickly put on the cocky grin that he was used to wearing. "Oh, nothing much. Just going over the whole 12-step thing. Today we discussed step 1. I think I'm already cured, but I figured I'd humor the guy."

Bobby shot him a quick look. "I'd listen to what he has to say, Dean. Leo's one sharp guy. I brought you to him cuz I know he can help. Don't go being a smart ass."

Dean nodded, but felt his stomach twist in a knot. He had no idea how he was going to handle tomorrow.


	11. Chapter 11

OK. So maybe I'm just in a Dean-angst mood or something. But I really enjoyed writing that last chapter and now I'm on the kick! Hopefully I can do as much for Day 2 of Dean's therapy! : )

Disclaimer: Metallica- NOT MINE! The song, _Unforgiven_, belongs entirely to Metallica! I only borrowed it! The lyrics I got from . So if they're wrong, well, it's their fault!

Dean drove by Dr. Morgan's driveway again, nervous about going to his next therapy session. He had promised Bobby and Sam he would go and he fully intended to. But then, he also didn't know if he could handle a repeat of yesterday.

It had been almost torture to confess how he had been feeling about certain issues. Some of those feelings he hadn't even really been aware of. Well, maybe he had been aware. But he had gotten so good at suppressing them that he never had to acknowledge them.

At the end of the road there was a small, rundown liquor store. Dean pulled into the parking lot and stared at the building. God, he honestly had never wanted a drink so badly in his life! His body and mind _ached_ for the comfort and relief a few swallows would bring him. It would make everything so much easier. The session would be so much more tolerable if he had some liquid courage coursing through his veins.

The neon open sign blinked invitingly at him. Dean sat in the car and stared at it. Before his mind could register his actions he swung the car door open and got out. He shut the door and slowly began walking towards the store's door.

_I'll just go look. There's no harm in looking, right? I'll just look around a little and then leave. I can do that. Just look. I don't need to buy anything. Just looking will be enough._

Dean opened the door and walked in. Rows of various bottles with golden brown liquid lined the walls. The room was filled with the odor of tobacco which was coming from the cigarette counter on the right. He felt his heart thunder wildly in his chest. His hands were trembling and he could feel his stomach knot up with guilt.

_I'm just looking. I can do that. I don't have to buy anything. I can just look. No reason to feel bad for looking._

He shoved his hands in his pockets and forced himself to walk forward. The old man sitting at the counter glanced up at him from his hunting magazine. Dean gave him a quick nod as he walked by. The man nodded back and went back to his magazine.

Captain Morgan. Parrot's Bay. Absolute Vodka. Tequila. Bailey's. So many different kinds. So many choices. He was distinctly aware of the effects each one would have on him.

Jack Daniel's.

Jack had always been his secret favorite. Its effects were quick and strong. Dean always knew if something was bothering him a few swigs of old Jack would make everything better. More tolerable. Hell, it had gotten him through Sam leaving. Through Dad leaving. Through Sam dying. Through his last months before Hell. Had dampened his fears when he had Yellow Fever. Jack was great at making him feel OK. Jack was the one true fix that was guaranteed to work.

One bottle wouldn't hurt.

He grabbed one of the smaller bottles off the shelf and quickly went back to the checkout counter. He set the bottle in front of the old man and went for his wallet. He could barely get it opened due to his hands shaking so badly.

"That all, son?" The man asked.

Dean nodded, his mouth to dry too speak.

He managed to pay and rushed back out to the car, his prize wrapped neatly in its brown paper bag. He got in the car and sat it in the passenger seat. He revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot, sending up gravel and dust into the air.

He found an area hidden by some trees where he could pull off. He pulled in until he was sure his car couldn't be easily spotted from the road. He shut off the engine and turned on the radio. Metallica's _Unforgiven_ came blasting over the speakers.

_New blood joins this earth_

_And quickly he is subdued_

_Through constant pained disgrace_

_The young boy learns the rules_

Dean picked up the bag and looked at the bottle sitting inside.

_With time the child draws in  
This whipping boy done wrong  
Deprived of all his thoughts  
The young man struggles on and on he's known  
A vow unto his own  
That never from this day  
His will they'll take away_

Slowly he slid the bottle out of the bag. The glass felt cool in his burning hands. Cool. Comforting.

_What I've felt  
What I've known  
Never shined through in what I've shown  
Never be  
Never see  
Won't see what might have been_

He opened the bottle, inhaling the fumes emanating from it.

_What I've felt  
What I've known  
Never shined through in what I've shown  
Never free  
Never me  
So I dub thee unforgiven_

He closed his eyes and put the bottle to his lips, pausing.

_They dedicate their lives,  
To running all of his  
He tries to please them all  
This bitter man he is  
Throughout his life the same  
He's battled constantly  
This fight he cannot win  
A tired man they see no longer cares  
The old man then prepares  
To die regretfully  
That old man here is me_

Tears began rolling down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately just wanting the pain to stop. To just go away. Why couldn't he just feel good? Just for a little while? Why did he always have to hurt?

_What I've felt  
What I've known  
Never shined through in what I've shown  
Never be  
Never see  
Won't see what might have been_

What I've felt  
What I've known  
Never shined through in what I've shown  
Never free  
Never me  
So I dub thee unforgiven

He put the bottle to his mouth and took a long drink. The amber liquid burned down his too-dry throat and coiled down to his stomach. Its effects, as always, were quick. He could feel its fire begin to burn through his veins.

_What I've felt  
What I've known  
Never shined through in what I've shown  
Never be  
Never see  
Won't see what might have been_

What I've felt  
What I've known  
Never shined through in what I've shown  
Never free  
Never me  
So I dub thee unforgiven

Why couldn't he stop crying? Why was the guilt still there? He drank faster, desperate to drown the anguish that had reared its ugly head.

_Never free  
Never me  
So I dub thee unforgiven_

You labeled me  
I'll label you  
So I dub thee unforgiven

It didn't matter if he drank. What the hell did it matter? He always fucked things up anyway? Sam was already disgusted and disappointed in him anyway. So it didn't matter if he just drank himself to death. Sam had been able to manage on his own. He didn't need his pathetic older brother.

_Never free  
Never me  
So I dub thee unforgiven_

You labeled me  
I'll label you  
So I dub thee unforgiven

Dean couldn't control the sobs that shook his whole body. He hated himself. Why the hell had Castiel saved him? Didn't God see how absolutely weak and pathetic he was? He was nothing but a drunk, pathetic excuse for a hunter. He could save all these people from all these monsters, but the one person he had been told from day one to protect and keep safe, well, he let him die. And then let him get manipulated by some demon-whore while he had caved and mercilessly tortured souls in Hell. Yeah, he deserved to die. To go back to Hell.

_Never free  
Never me  
So I dub thee unforgiven..._


	12. Chapter 12

OK. This is a tad short, but I'm trying to formulate what to do for the next therapy session. Any ideas you can think of I am willing to hear! As always, thanks for reading!

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Chapter 12

A loud knock on the window right next to Dean's ear woke him up from his alcohol-induced sleep.

"Dean! Wake up!"

Dean jerked upward and felt a wave of nausea course through him. He closed his eyes and groaned. He turned his head to see Dr. Morgan looking him at him through the driver's side window. He forced himself to sit up and rolled the window down.

"Wha… wha-t are you doing here?" Dean slurred.

Dr. Morgan sighed and motioned Dean over. "Move over, Dean. I've been walking for the last half hour. I want to have a seat. And you are in no condition for driving."

Dean slid over, trying to understand what was going on. "Yoou… you walked?"

Dr. Morgan opened the door and got in the driver's side and shut the door behind him. He gave Dean a hard look.

"Well, Dean, a funny thing happened. You're appointment was for 11 o'clock, but you never showed. Now, in my experience, alcoholics tend to do one of several things during the first few sessions with me. Some try to be spot on time every day. They're determined to prove to me that they don't need the help. Then there are those who try to act like they don't care, so they may show up a little late. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes max. Just to show me they can. But then there are those like you, Dean. They can handle letting go so they run to the one thing that has always given them comfort." He reached over and held up the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, studying it. "Now, most people wait until at least the second or third session. But then, I guess you're not exactly most people, are you?"

"No… no, doc. Guess not."

"Well, I guess we can start our next session right now."

"We can?"

"Yup. We're going to start by having you make a phone call." Dr. Morgan reached over and retrieved Dean's cell phone from where it was sitting in his pocket. He held it up displaying the screen. "You've missed a few calls."

Dean blinked a few times, trying to focus his vision. He saw that he had six new voice messages. His stomach sank.

"You told them!"

"Yes, Dean, I told them that you hadn't shown up to your session. You should give Bobby a call and explain what happened." He sat back in the seat and looked at Dean expectantly.

Dean shook his head. "No… no! You do it! Why… why the hell did you have to call them?"

"I'm sorry. I actually was concerned about your safety. So, here," He gave the phone a little shake. "Call."

"You called them first!"

"Now, Dean, part of your therapy is learning to accept the consequences of your actions. You chose to not go to your session and instead buy alcohol and drink. No one knew of your whereabouts and they are no very concerned. Think about it, Dean. Say Sam was in your situation and you in his, who would want to hear from, me or you?"

Dean inwardly cursed the doctor's logic. "Fuck."

Dr. Morgan tucked the phone in Dean's hand. "Call, please. We do have other things to do, but we're not leaving until you make your phone call."

Dean reluctantly looked at the phone and hit the number for Bobby's speed dial. He put the phone to ear and cleared his throat, praying he could make himself sound sober.

The phone barely finished ringing once before Bobby's anxious voice answered. "Hello?"

"Bobby! Hey, it's me, Dean."

"Dean! _Where the HELL have you been, boy!?!?!_"

Dean cringed at the anger in Bobby's voice. "I… it's… I'm fine, Bobby. Sorry. It… it was just… just a… mistake. That's all. The doc's here now and everything's fine now."

"Damn it, Dean! Answer me! Where the hell have you been? You've been drinking haven't you!? God damn it, Dean!"

"No! No! I… I wasn't… no… I… I wasn't… feeling good. I didn't feel good so… you know… I figured I'd just pull over and take a quick nap. That's all."

Dean closed his eyes and winced. That was the stupidest excuse he had ever come up with and he knew Bobby would know it. What was worse was he knew Bobby would see right through the lie. And Dr. Morgan was right there witnessing it all.

"A nap!?! Bullshit! Damn it, Dean! Do you have any idea how worried Sam and I have been the last hour!?!? I damn near had to tie Sam down to keep him from running out there to look for you! It's a good thing I knew what you were up to. You want Sam catching you drinking again and making an ass of yourself? Jesus, Dean!"

Dean tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. Despite his spinning head, Bobby's words were able to still cut him to his core.

"I… I'm sorry," he managed to whisper.

"Well, damn right you're sorry! That was one idgit move on your part and you better never do that again!"

Suddenly the line went quiet.

"Hey, Sam….yeah, it's Dean. He's fine."

"Fuck, Bobby, I don't want to talk to him like this! Please, just… just tell him I have to go. Please…"

"Dean, your brother wants to talk to you," Bobby said calmly.

A tear trickled down Dean's face as he listened to Bobby pass the phone to Sam.

"Dean!" Sam's anxious voice came over the line. "Dean, where are you? Are you OK?"

Dean quickly wiped away the tear and forced himself to sound normal.

"Yeah! Yeah, Sammy, everything's fine!"

"What happened? Why didn't you go to your therapy?"

"Yeah, well, I was on my way, but, man, I started feeling like shit. Probably something Bobby for breakfast, ya know? So… yeah… I figured I'd take a quick nap to try to sleep it off. I thought I set my alarm on my phone, but I must have screwed it up. But, I'm fine now. Everything's fine. The doc's here and we're going to still have the session."

"You were sick? Why didn't you call me? I would have come and gotten you."

"Yeah, Mom. So you could give me one of your weird ass health concoctions you picked up at Stanford? Yeah, I slept it off. I'm fine now."

Sam was quiet for a moment on the other end.

"Still there, Sam?"

"Yeah. I'm here." Pause. "So, you're OK and you're really going to your session now?"

"Yeah, like I said, the doc is here. He was the one to wake me up and told me to call."

"OK. Well, then I guess I'll let you go."

"OK. I'll see you after."

Pause. "And everything's OK now?"

Dean felt his heart clench and the tears sting his eyes again. "Yeah, Sammy. Everything's fine."

"OK. I'll see you after."

"OK."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Dean hung up and dropped the phone on the seat next to him. He buried his face in his hands. Dr. Morgan said nothing. He started the car and began driving them back to his house.


	13. Chapter 13

Hurray! I can log in again and start posting again! The next 2 chapters have been nagging me for days so I wanted to post them ASAP! Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 13

The car ride back to Dr. Morgan's house was a quiet one. Dean had rapidly sobered up after talking to Sam and was now agonizing over the choice he had made. What the hell had he been thinking? God, all he had to do was go and put up with the doctor for an hour. That should not be a problem for Dean Winchester. God, he's the expert on manipulating conversations in his favor! Isn't that what he had practically been raised to do? To keep his head, not lose his cool.

But now. Now he could barely think straight. Every emotion that had been so neatly buried away had been ripped up and laid bare. His ability to neatly side-step difficult topics had been shredded to non-existence. He couldn't stop dwelling on every mistake, every trauma that had ever occurred to him.

And there was nothing to soft the pain anymore.

Dr. Morgan pulled into his driveway and parked. Without a word he got out of the car and began walking to the house. Reluctantly, Dean got out and followed him. They entered and went back to his office. Dean flopped down on the couch, staring miserably at the floor. Dr. Morgan sat down in the chair next to the couch.

"So, Dean, looks like we need to have a talk about what happened today. Why don't you start by what happened this morning at Bobby's?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Nothing really. Ate breakfast. Watched some TV with Sam. Left."

"How were you feeling this morning?"

Dean shrugged. "OK."

"So you felt OK this morning. You told Bobby and Sam you were coming to therapy, correct?"

"Yeah."

"And this morning, did you plan on coming to therapy?"

"Yeah."

"So then you leave and you begin driving here. Its, what? A half hour to get here from Bobby's?"

"Yeah."

"So something changed on your way here. Something made you not want to come to therapy."

Dean didn't answer.

"So, Dean, what changed? What made you change your plans today?"

Dean swallowed hard, not able to meet the doctor's eyes. He desperately did not want to talk about this. He didn't want to think about it.

"I… I dunno."

Dr. Morgan leaned back in the chair, saying nothing.

Dean stared at his fidgeting hands.

There was a long pause. Finally, "I… I don't like talking…"

Silence.

"This…" Dean gestured at the room. "I… I don't do this. I don't… I don't talk about this stuff."

"Why not, Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know."

Silence. Dean closed his eyes. He felt almost smothered by the silence in the room. It was almost worse than having to talk.

"Dad… we never… we didn't talk about this stuff. We hunted. We did our job. We didn't talk about anything else. We didn't talk about how we felt about it."

Dr. Morgan was quiet. He just gave a slow nod at Dean's words.

"I… I don't want to deal with any of this anymore. It's done. I want to forget. Move on."

"But you haven't forgotten. You haven't moved on."

"Well, it doesn't help that Sam keeps wanting to talk about it. He should have just left it alone."

"What does Sam want to talk about?"

Dean let out a bitter chuckle. "All of it. What happened in Hell. What's going on now. What's going to happen. He's always been like that. He doesn't just forget it."

"Why do you think it's so important for Sam to talk about these things?"

"I don't know. He worries too much."

"Why would he be worried?"

Dean flinched at those words. He knew deep down inside why Sam was worried. The damn tears that seemed to be ever presented threatened to escape his eyes. Dean rubbed his face and tried to clear the lump that was in his throat.

"I don't know."

Silence.

Dean's chin began to tremble, the truth gnawing at him.

"It's… it's me. I know it's all my fault. I… I tried to hide it from him. Told him I didn't remember. Christ, I wish I didn't. I wish like hell I couldn't remember. I tried to fake it. Tried to act like everything was fine. And it almost was. We almost had things back to the way it was. Before… before I left."

Dr. Morgan quietly watched him.

"I… that damn Yellow Fever. It changed everything. I couldn't hide it after that. It was like Hell had just followed me. And whenever I see Cas… he's the angel that… that pulled me out… it just reminds me. Shit, all I have to do is look in the fucking mirror without my shirt on to get a reminder."

With that Dean took off his jacket and pushed up one of the sleeves to his t-shirt, displaying that large hand-print scar that was there. Dr. Morgan looked at it, nodding silently. Dean dropped the sleeve and looked down at the floor.

"It doesn't matter what I do. Except the alcohol. That's been the only thing that numbs it. Makes what happened not seem quite so bad. And the hunting. I figure that's all I'm good for anyway. At least I can try to make up for the…" Dean squeezed his eyes shut and a tear broke free, trickling down his cheek. "I can make up for the… things I did. I know it will never be enough, but, damn it, I figure I may as well die trying.

"And, I'm sorry, doc, but I really don't think you can help me. I know I'm all fucked up and I know that… that there's nothing I can do to change it. I know my drinking is bad. I know that I have to stop because of what it's done to Sam. I know that I've fucked everything up. I'm a fuck up and there's nothing that will change that."

The tears ran freely down his face now and Dean hung his head, ashamed. He felt so incredibly weak, physically and mentally.

"Dean," Dr. Morgan finally said quietly, "I can tell you that you are in no way a fuck up, but I also know that it doesn't matter what I say or think. I will say, though, that you are wrong about one thing. I can help you."

Dean slowly raised his eyes to look at him at this statement.

"I can help you, Dean, but only if that is what you want. I can't promise you it will be easy. And it will require you to talk. We will have to talk about a lot of things that you probably won't want to talk about. Things that you haven't talked about with anyone before. Understand, Dean, that it is all part of the process. To identify what has hurt you. It has all made you the person you are today. Once you address those hurts then we can work on helping you cope with them more effectively. You have to trust me, though, Dean. Can you do that?"

Dean wiped his face and forced himself to nod.

"Yeah. I… I can try. I… I know I've told you more stuff than I have anyone else. And you haven't kicked me out yet, so you can't be that bad."

The doctor smiled and chuckled.

"You can tell me anything, Dean. I have heard many stories in my 35 years of practice. Some that would make you think Hell was already on Earth. And then there's the fact that I'm all too aware of… demons in my own past."

Dean looked at him confused. "What the hell could you have done? Kicked a puppy on a bad day?"

Dr. Morgan smiled gently.

"Another day, Dean. Just know that everyone is capable of doing unimaginable things given the right situation and then not only surviving, but making a new life for themselves after."

Dr. Morgan paused, allowing Dean to think about what he had said. He then cleared his throat.

"Now, Dean. Back to what happened today. First, are you willing to keep coming to therapy?"

Dean slowly nodded.

"Good. Next, we need to keep you from drinking before your therapy. I think if you can actually make it to therapy then we can work on you not drinking after. Tell me, Dean, am I right to say the main person you want to stop drinking for is Sam?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"I know you said you have trouble expressing your feelings, but what about talking to Sam about when you feel like drinking? Do you think you could talk to him about it when you get the urge?"

Dean thought for a moment. "I… I guess so."

"Good. How about we talk to Sam about it then." Dr. Morgan reached behind him and picked up a phone off the desk. He began dialing.

"You mean, talk to him now?" Dean asked, startled.

"Yes, Dean. We need for you to know your resources and for them to know what they need to do to help you."

The doctor finished dialing and hit another button on the phone, turning on the speaker phone function. Dean's stomach knotted anxiously listening to it ring. Finally, Bobby answered.

"Hello?"

"Bobby! It's Leo."

"Everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine. I was just wondering if Sam was available. We would like to talk to him."

"Sure thing, Leo. Hold on."

Dean could hear Bobby's muffled voice calling to Sam. He clasped his hands together, trying to stop them from shaking. He wasn't sure how Sam was going to react and it terrified him in a way that he had never imagined.

"Hello?" Sam's voice came over the line.

"Hello, Sam. This is Dr. Morgan. How are you today?"

"Um, I'm fine, Doctor. Is everything OK?"

"Yes, Sam, everything here is fine. I'm here with Dean and I have you on speaker phone so we can all talk together. There's something we would like to discuss with you."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Anything!"

"Now I know you have been very concerned about your brother's drinking lately. I know you were the one to find him that night and brought him to the hospital."

Pause. "Yeah. Yeah, I was."

"I know that had to have been very difficult for you and I know from talking to Bobby you have been very anxious to help your brother, but not sure in what capacity. Am I correct in that?"

"Well, yeah. I'll do anything to help him. Whatever he needs!"

Dean closed his eyes at Sam's words. It was incredibly humbling for him to hear the willingness in Sam's voice.

"That's good, Sam. Dean has said today that he may need help maintaining the motivation to go to his therapy sessions. He leaves with the intent to go, but struggles once he's alone. Dean needs someone he can rely on and trust to talk to about his concerns and help keep him motivated. He's indicated to me that you're the one he trusts to do that. Would you be willing to take on that role, Sam?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Dean's there with you?"

"Yes."

"You really said that, Dean?" The emotion was evident in his voice.

Dean swallowed hard, trying to keep his own voice steady. "Well, yeah I said that. Shit, Sammy. We've been through harder stuff, right? I think you have it in ya to tell me to quit being a douche bag and go to therapy, right?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I can tell you that. But…" His voice trailed off.

"Yes, Sam? It sounds like you have a concern. Now is the time to address it."

"It's just… you'll really tell me, Dean? You'll really tell me if you need the help?"

Dean took a deep breath.

"Yeah. Yeah, Sam. I'll tell you. I promise."

"Because you know you can, Dean. You can tell me anything. It doesn't matter what. And if you need me to come with you, if that would help, I'll come with you to your therapy. I'll sit out in the car and wait. I don't mind. Just… whatever you need. I'll do it. I don't care what it is."

Dean smirked. "Will you get me a hooker if I need one?"

Sam groaned on the other end. "Jesus, Dean! I'm serious!"

"I know! I know. And I know you'll help me, Sam. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Dr. Morgan smiled. "And I want to thank you as well, Sam. I appreciate your help."

"Thank you, Dr. Morgan. I… I appreciate you helping him."

"You're welcome, Sam. And don't hesitate to call me if you have any questions or concerns. It doesn't matter the hour."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to wrap things up with Dean and send him home. Have a good afternoon, Sam."

"OK. You too."

"Good bye."

"Bye."

Dr. Morgan hung up the phone and looked at Dean. Dean let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"How do you feel that went, Dean?"

Dean sighed. "Good. I think."

"Did you expect a different reaction?"

"I didn't really know what he'd say."

"But now you do. How do you feel about what he had to say?"

Dean smiled weakly. "What can I say? That's Sam. The kid would do anything to help anyone."

"And he wants to help you. Do you think you can let him?"

Dean slowly nodded. "I think so."

"Very good. So, tomorrow on time?"

Dean stood up and nodded. "Yeah. I'll be here."

***

Dean returned to Bobby's later on. Sam eagerly greeted him, telling him that Bobby had rented some movies for them to watch and was going to order pizza for dinner. Bobby was a little gruff when he first saw Dean, but quickly softened.

The evening was one of most enjoyable times Dean could remember having in awhile. They watched several action movies, ate pizza, drank soda, and played poker. There was a lot of joking and laughing. There were stories shared about some of the funnier hunts they had been on.

It was a good night.

Dean went to bed that night with a new glimmer of hope. Maybe he could get through this. Maybe there was a chance.


	14. Chapter 14

Things are about to get real dark! If you don't like reading about a seriously mentally-tortured Dean and graphic (to me anyway) descriptions of torture, skip this chapter! Otherwise, prepare for some serious angst!

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Chapter 14

_The screams. The choking smell of sulfur. Blood. The knives. The skin peeling away from the bodies. The stifling heat. Again. And again. It never ends. There was no escape. There was no hope._

_The only release was the torture. The power that came from being able to control the agony he could inflict on the souls splayed out before him. Whether he was in the mood for something quicker, simpler. Or the slow, drawn out torture. Slowly carving away each layer of skin before reaching the muscle. Cutting off a finger, one at a time. Relishing in the screams that each action invoked._

_And it wasn't him. He didn't have to be the victim anymore. He was all powerful._

_A new soul was laid out before him. Dean grabbed his knife and stood over it. He looked at the face._

_Sam's terrified eyes met his._

***

Dean bolted upright in the bed. He was soaked with sweat and gasping for air. He struggled to figure out where he was and whether the dream was really ended. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his heart thundered in his chest. His stomach twisted and he wanted to throw up. He curled himself up into a ball, rocking back and forth sobbing.

He couldn't do this. God, he couldn't. He couldn't stand another night like this. Another nightmare. Over and over like a record that never stopped.

_This is how it's always going to be. It's never going to stop. You're fucked up, Dean. You may look like a human, but you're a demon inside. Just because you don't look it doesn't mean it's not true!_

No!

Dean looked over at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It read 12:48 am. Sam was sleeping. He didn't want to wake him up for this. He didn't want Sam to see him a quivering wreck like this.

But he had promised.

He forced himself to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and stand. His legs were trembling so hard that he didn't know if he could move. Trying to control his breathing he began to walk. The screams from his dreams still echoed in his head. He felt delirious, as if everything around him was surreal. He desperately wanted a drink. Something that would right things. But he wasn't going to. No, he had made a promise.

He walked out into the hallway and slowly walked up to Sam's closed door. His breath hitched when he heard Sam talking to someone.

"No…damn it, Ruby... No… I said I'm not going… I have other things to deal-… shut up, Ruby… you have no idea what's going on… don't-… I have to be here, alright?... just… damn it… yeah, I know what this means…well, I have to be here for him… I can't just leave…well, someone else is going to have to save the world… I have to take care of Dean…"

Dean staggered away from the door, barely able to breathe. He managed to get back to his room and sunk down on the bed. He buried his face into his hands and sobbed.

_You're just holding him back! Sam could be out saving the world, but instead he has to be here to take care of your pathetic ass! You selfish prick. He shouldn't have to be stuck with you. He was just fine on his own. He's actually got powers and can exorcise demons with his fucking mind! What the fuck can you do, Dean? Look at you! Curled up like a pathetic sniveling little baby, crying. You're pitiful. Sam doesn't need you._

Suddenly, Dean heard movement in the hallway coming towards his door. He quickly got under the covers and turned away from the door. He heard his door softly open. He knew it was Sam standing there. He had spent enough time with him to be able to sense his presence without seeing him. He slowed his breathing to look like he was sleeping. After a minute he heard Sam softly close the door and make his way back down the hallway to his room. As soon as his door closed Dean let out the sob he had been desperately suppressing.

_He's better off without you, Dean. He'd be better off with you dead. Everyone would be. They were before. No one cared that you died. The world didn't stop without you before._

Dean sat up and swung his legs back over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a moment, thinking.

_You should just end it, Dean. Fucking end it. Send yourself back to Hell where you belong. It'd be all over then. You would turn into the demon you already are and wouldn't give a fuck about anything anymore. Sam could move on. It would all be better. Just do it, Dean. End it all. End it tonight._

He slowly stood up and walked over to his bag. He slowly reached in and brought out his gun. He stood there looking at it in the pale moonlight that filtered through the curtains.

_So quick. It'd be painless. Compared to everything you've felt. You've done. One shot in the head. It'd be all over._

He checked to see how many bullets he had and found the chamber was full. His heart thundered in his chest. His hand trembled as he stared at the gun.

He went and set the gun on the bed. He went back to his bag and changed his clothes. He slowly put on his jacket and boots. He sat on the bed for a minute and looked back at the gun sitting there next to him.

Sam.

Dean closed his eyes and felt a lump in his throat. He had to give Sam an explanation. He knew how Sam was. He couldn't let him blame himself. He knew he'd try.

Dean went back to his bag and pulled out a pen and pad of paper. He switched on the lamp next to the bed. Taking a deep breath he began to write:

_Sam,_

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I have put you through these last four years. I should have done things better. I should have let you live your life in Stanford. You could have had a normal life and Jess would still be alive. I know I've ruined everything for you. I know I do that. I fuck everything up. I can't seem to do anything right._

_I know I've disappointed you. Again and again. You're probably the best brother anyone could ever have and I know I don't deserve to have a brother as wonderful as you. I can't stand seeing the disappointment in your eyes anymore. I won't keep holding you back. You're special, Sammy. You always have been. You have powers that will help you save the world and end all this. You don't need me anymore. You managed before and you'll manage again. It's better this way. I know you won't see it that way at first, but it really will be._

_Remember what Dad taught you. Everything of mine is yours now. Take care of my baby. Don't douche her up this time, OK? I mean, I guess if you have to that iPod thing is OK. Just, no gay-ass music, OK?_

_And after you save the world, Sam, I want you to have that normal life. It'll be all over and you can. Go back to school. Get that degree you wanted. Find a good girl. Maybe see if that art chick girl, what's her name, Sarah, is still free. Have kids. Have all that stuff you always wanted._

_Just know that it's going to be OK, Sammy. That it's better this way. That's it's OK to forget about me. You should you know. After it's all over just forget about these last few years. Start a new life without any monsters or demons or hunting. Go be normal._

_Good-bye, Sammy. I'm sorry I wasn't a better brother._

_Dean_

Tears poured down his face as he folded the letter into thirds and wrote Sam's name on the front. He took a deep breath and set the letter on the nightstand, propped up by the lamp. He then walked over to the bed, picked up the gun and put it in his coat pocket. He took one last glance around the room before heading for the door and walking out.

Quietly, he made his way down the hallway, the stairs and to the front door. He slipped out the door without making a sound. He walked over to the car, his baby, and climbed in. He sat quietly for a moment, willing his heart to slow down to no avail. Finally, he started the car up and pulled out of the driveway.

***

It was a cool, fall night. Dean drove for an hour until he found a bridge that was over a river. He pulled the car off the road and parked. He sat quietly for a minute. No music on the radio. There was no wind. Through the partially opened car window he could hear crickets chirping and the rush of the river below the bridge. The pale moonlight illuminated the bridge in front of him and spilled into the car.

He stared at the gun sitting on the seat next to him. His breath came in ragged pants. He knew in his mind how it should be down. Not in the car. He wouldn't do that to Sammy. He had written a note to whoever found the car to make sure it got delivered to Singer Salvage Yard. He would then do it on the bridge. He'd make sure he'd fall into the river so they wouldn't have to deal with his body. It'd be better that way.

Everything was ready. Planned.

So why was he more terrified than ever?

Where was he going to go? Back to Hell? Would he wind up being a ghost that would haunt this bridge? What if something went wrong? What if he missed? What if he screwed up and just hurt himself real bad? Fell and paralyzed himself? They'd find him and stick him in the nut house for life. He'd be more pathetic than he already was.

He forced those thoughts to the back of his mind and grabbed the gun. He got out of the car and walked over to the middle of the bridge. He looked over the side and saw the water rushing over the rocks and rolling through. He looked down at the gun again.

_It's better this way. Better for Sam. He'll be better off._

Trembling, he climbed up and sat down on the railing. The feel of the open air behind made his stomach drop. He looked back down at the gun. It glinted silver in the moonlight. A tear splashed on the handle. Dean couldn't stop the tears from coming. The pain. Then mental anguish of day to day living was too much. He couldn't do it anymore. And he couldn't drag Sam down with him. He had to let Sam go.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean sobbed into the night. "I'm sorry for everything."

He raised the gun and pressed the barrel to his temple. The metal felt like ice against his burning head. He squeezed his eyes closed. He had to do this…

(To be continued…)


	15. Chapter 15

I didn't want to make you guys wait too long, not to mention this has been rattling around in my brain the last 2 days! I hope it came out OK. It's 5 o'clock in the morning and I'm exhausted after a brutal night at work! Definitely makes writing more of a challenge!

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Chapter 15

A warm, gentle hand covered Dean's. A second hand covered the gun. Both slowly lowered Dean's hand with the gun away. It was so sudden, so unexpected, Dean didn't have a chance to react. The gun was slipped out of his startled fingers. He opened his eyes to find a set of piercing blue eyes looking intently back at him.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Castiel asked him, his face cocked in confusion.

Dean was almost too startled to respond.

"Castiel?" Dean choked out. "Wha-… what are you doing here?"

"You could have hurt yourself, Dean. Why would you do such a thing?"

Dean didn't know what to say. All the tension that had filled his body had rushed away in an instance, leaving him feeling completely physically and emotionally drained.

"I… I can't do this anymore."

"I do not understand."

Dean closed his eyes. He could no longer control the emotions that were tearing him apart.

"I can't fight anymore. I… want to be dead. I want it to be over," he whispered, tearing streaming down his cheeks. "Please… I can't take it anymore. I don't want to be alive anymore. I just want to die."

He slid off the rail to his feet on the bridge. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. He didn't care anymore about what Castiel might think of him acting like this. He didn't have the strength to put on the façade. He was done. He had nothing left inside.

Suddenly he felt an arm come around him and pull him close. Castiel pulled him into a warm, gentle embrace. Any tattered remnants of self-control Dean might have had were now gone. He began sobbing hysterically, desperately clutching Castiel's trench coat and burying his face on his shoulder. Castiel simply stood there quietly, allowing Dean time to cry. To let everything out.

It was a few minutes before Dean ran out of tears. He managed a few ragged gasps before letting go of his coat and straightening back up. Castiel left one hand on his arm.

"You must come with me, Dean. I must bring you to the doctor's house. You need to drive there. Now."

Dean simply nodded and staggered back to the car. Castiel didn't leave his side. He got in the car with him and watched him intently as Dean fumbled with his keys and started the engine.

The drive seemed to take forever. When they were almost to Dr. Morgan's house a guitar riff suddenly broke the silence. The sound came from Dean's jacket pocket.

"That is your phone, Dean."

Dean nodded silently.

"Are you going to answer it?"

He shook his head.

"I am quite sure it is Sam or your friend, Bobby."

Dean didn't respond.

Castiel said nothing more the rest of the drive. They finally pulled into Dr. Morgan's driveway. The doctor suddenly appeared on the porch, dressed in pajamas and bathrobe and slippers on his feet. He rushed down to the car.

"Thank God," he said as Dean slowly got out of the car. Castiel got out on the other side. "Thank God you found him, Castiel. And thank you for bringing him here."

The doctor took Dean by the arm and led him inside, Castiel following behind them. He led them to a guest room next to the office. There was a small twin bed and a chair set up in the room. Dr. Morgan motioned for Dean to sit on the bed. He began undressing Dean, removing his jacket and boots. Dean was too exhausted to ask questions or protest.

"I'm sorry, Dean, but it's come down to this. You're not safe to be alone anymore. You're going to be staying with me and under my watch at all times. You're not going to be left alone. And you're not keeping anything that you can harm yourself with." With that he pulled out a small plastic bin from under the bed. He began going through Dean's pockets and throwing the contents into the bin.

"I will stay with Dean," Castiel said, sitting down in the chair next to them. "I will watch him for you."

"Thank you, Castiel. Yes, that would be most helpful."

Dean looked from Dr. Morgan to Castiel and then back.

"You know each other."

"Why yes, Dean. Castiel shared his presence with me after your first session with me. He was also the one to help me find you yesterday. He has been watching over you for some time now."

Suddenly, the phone in the doctor's robe pocket began to ring. Dr. Morgan quickly reached down and answered it.

"Hello?....Yes, Bobby…. He's here…. Yes…. He's OK…. He's not injured…not that I've found…. Castiel…. Yes, he's to stay with me…. I… I understand, Bobby…. Yes, but he is quite distressed right now… I'm not sure if he should see him like this…. Yes…. Of course…. OK, then…. I will see you soon…. Good-bye."

He hung up and gave Dean a stern look.

"You gave Bobby and your brother quite a scare. They have been driving all over the place since Sam found you missing. He's very worried."

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I don't want to see him," he whispered.

Dr. Morgan sighed. "They're already on their way. They should be here soon. You must realize, Dean, that eventually you must talk to Sam and explained what happened."

Dean sat silently on the bed, thinking on the doctor's words. Dr. Morgan finished undressing him down to his undershirt and boxers. He had gone through the rest of his pockets and removed the bin and his clothes from the room. He then began checking Dean over, looking for any injuries that the clothes might have hidden.

Suddenly, the sound of squealing tires could be heard in the driveway. Dr. Morgan quickly got up and made his way to the front door. Dean heard the door open.

"Sam-"

"Where's Dean!?!?! Where is my brother?!?!!?" Sam frantic voice came down the hallway.

"He's in the guest room. Please, Sam-"

Sam didn't wait for the doctor to finish. He dashed towards the guest room and ran in. He stopped in the doorway when he saw Dean's pale, anguished figure sitting silently on the bed. Dean didn't look up.

Tears streamed down Sam's face as he looked at Dean. Suddenly, his face twisted in fury and he ran over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders.

_"What the fuck is the matter with you_!?!?!" He screamed in Dean's face.

Dean looked at him, stunned.

Sam began shaking him, his fingers digging into his shoulders.

_"You son of a bitch!!! Why!?!? Why would you try to leave me like that!?!? Why would you try to leave me again!?!?! Why, Dean!?! How could you!?!?! How could you do that to me!?!? Why would you make me go through that again!?!?! Why would want to leave me again!?!?!"_

Tears began pouring down Dean's face. He couldn't answer. Sam knelt down in front of Dean, desperation on his face.

_"Please, Dean! Just tell me what I did wrong! What do I need to do!?! I'll do anything! Please, what did I do!?!? I don't understand! I swear, I'll do anything! I don't care what it is! We'll go anywhere you want! We'll do anything you want! I don't care, Dean! Please! What do you want!?!? What do I have to do!?!?! Dammit, Dean! I can't lose you again! Please don't leave me alone again! Not again! I can't lose you again! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for whatever it is I did wrong! I'm sorry I lied to you! I'm sorry I used my powers! I'm sorry! I'll do anything, Dean! Anything you tell me to! Just don't leave me! Don't leave me again, Dean!"_

Sam's voice broke and he wrapped his arms around Dean. Dean sobbed and put his arms around Sam.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean sobbed in Sam's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

The brothers sat together, crying into each other's arms. Castiel sat silently, watching from his chair. Dr. Morgan watched with Bobby from the doorway. Bobby wiped away the tears that had escaped from his own eyes.

"Can you help him, Leo?" Bobby asked softly, his voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what to do anymore. He's been completely broken. He's completely lost."

Dr. Morgan rubbed his face with one hand. "God, I hope so. There's hope. He has Sam. He has you. Shit, he even has God on his side from the looks of things. The only thing that Dean Winchester has to fight is Dean Winchester."

Bobby nodded silently.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

It took almost an hour to convince Sam that Dean would be safe under Dr. Morgan's and Castiel's care. It was only after he was promised that he could visit every day and call to check on him whenever he wanted that Sam reluctantly let go of Dean and stood up.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Sam promised Dean. "You… you can call me, Dean. Any time you need anything. Or if you want me here. I'll come back, OK? I promise."

Dean nodded wordlessly. Bobby gently took Sam by the arm and led him out of the room. Dr. Morgan followed them out. Dean heard them go to the front door and Sam and Bobby left. A few minutes later Dr. Morgan returned to the room carrying a glass of water and two small white pills.

"Here, Dean. Take these, please," he said, holding them out to Dean.

"What are they?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"Sedatives. They'll help you sleep tonight."

Dean shook his head furiously. "No. No, I don't want them."

"Why not?"

Dean buried his face into his hands. "I don't want to sleep. I'll just have those dreams again. I'm not sleeping. I… can't do it again. I can't…"

Dr. Morgan sighed, looking at Dean sadly. Castiel suddenly stood up and walked over to where Dean was sitting.

"Dean," he said.

Dean slowly looked up at him. "What?"

Before Dean could react Castiel reached forward and gently touched his forward with his two fingers. Dean's eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped over onto the bed. He was sound asleep. Castiel looked at Dr. Morgan.

"Is that what you wanted?"

Dr. Morgan nodded. "Yes, thank you. That was much easier than I had hoped for. Are you able to control his dreams by doing that?"

Castiel nodded. "He will not be troubled by dreams of Hell tonight."

Dr. Morgan sighed in relief. "Excellent. It will be a long time before those dreams will lessen, but at least tonight he can rest in peace."

He walked to the door and paused for a moment, looking back. "You will call me if he awakens?"

Castiel nodded. "I will."

"Good. Good night, Castiel."

"Good night."

Dr. Morgan closed the door and made his way to his office. He had dealt with many patients who were suicidal in his long years as a psychiatrist. Never got any easier though, especially when they were so young.

He flipped on the light switch closed the door. He then made his way over to a large filing cabinet in the corner. He opened one of the lower drawers and began rifling through the files inside. After a minute he pulled out a large, thick file. The name on it read: _Winchester, John E._

He carried the file over to his desk and set it down. He switched on the desk lamp and settled himself into the leather office chair behind the desk. Taking a deep breath he flipped opened the file.

_November 4, 1997_

_New patient brought to me last evening by friend, Robert Singer. Patient is a 43 year old male suffering from suicidal ideations. He arrived at my office around 1:25 am and was clearly intoxicated. According to Mr. Singer the patient had been drinking alcohol throughout the day yesterday at a regular rate. The patient had express to Mr. Singer that he was a failure and that the world and his family would be better off without him. He had attempted to shoot himself in the head with a hand gun he owns, but it was taken away by force by Mr. Singer._

_As are many of my clients, Mr. Winchester is a Hunter. He has been hunting for the last 14 years, ever since his wife's death in 1983, according to Mr. Singer. Prior to that event Mr. Winchester served in the Marine Corps and, after discharge, was employed as a mechanic. The patient has two children, both sons; Dean who is 18 and Sam who is 14. Presently their location is unknown. Mr. Winchester, unfortunately, is too distressed presently to state their location and Mr. Singer is unaware of their location. From what I have learned from Mr. Winchester, however, is that the older son cares for the younger son while Mr. Winchester is working. Unless I find evidence that the children are in immediate danger I will not notify the authorities of this situation._

_Diagnoses:_

_Alcoholism_

_Suicidal gestures_

_Severe depression_

_Patient will need to be evaluated for any further personality or mood disorders once the alcohol is no longer in his system and masking any symptoms. Patient is currently sleeping in guest room. My assistants are monitoring the patient to prevent any further actions of self-harming._

Dr. Morgan leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. It was difficult seeing the sins of the father infecting the son. He knew that it was no surprise that Dean would suffer from many of the same afflictions as his father, but it was heartbreaking nonetheless.

His mind traveled back to a conversation he had with John just a few nights after his arrival…

***

_"Tell me about your sons, John."_

_"What about them?"_

_"Bobby tells me you have two sons, Dean and Sam, correct?"_

_John nodded, staring down at the floor. _

_"Tell me about them. What are they like?"_

_"What are they like? Well," John paused for a moment, thinking. "Dean's the oldest. He's 18. He's… he's one helluva kid. Good kid. Taught him everything I know and he's just a natural. Like he was born to be a Hunter. Thinks fast too. God, even at 18 he's been able to get his ass out of more tight situations."_

_"What about school?"_

_John shook his head._

_"Hates it. Thinks it's a waste of time. He'd rather be out hunting with me all the time. I make him go though. He's almost done. He'll be happy about that. It's been good though. He can finish school and keep an eye on Sammy while I'm gone."_

_"And what about Sam?"_

_"Sam? Shit, he's…" John's voice caught for a second. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "He's a good boy. He's 14. God, he pretty much Dean's opposite. I mean, he can hunt. Dean and I watch him close, but he's close to being able to hold his own without us having to worry. He… his heart just isn't in it, though. Not like Dean's. He's more focused on school. Shit, I've never seen a boy more interested in school and learning that that boy. He's like a sponge. Just picks up everything around him. He's smart. Real smart. Like… like his mom. Just like her sometimes…" His voice trailed off._

_"They sound like good sons."_

_John nodded emphatically. "They are. They're excellent boys. I… they're all I have left in the world… I'd do anything for them."_

_"So, John, why would you try to take yourself away from them by committing suicide?"_

_John rubbed his face with one hand. "I… I know. It's just… it's been 14 years now, doc. 14 years since I lost my wife. That night… the night I came here… that was the anniversary. I… I realized just what exactly I've done to them. Christ, I've ruined it for them. What kind of life will they ever have? I had hoped by now I would have figured it out. Figured out why the hell my wife had to die. Yet I'm no closer now than I was 14 years ago. And the boys… God, what have I done for them? I've missed so much of their lives already. Sometimes I wonder if I really know anything about them…"_

_"There is always time to change, John. You can choose to take the time to be with them."_

_"And throw away everything I've done? They know why I have to be gone. They've accepted it. I just wish I had more to show for it…"_

***

That session had been one of the better ones. John had been medicated and had been much more willing to talk than normal. Other days he would refuse to take anything. Those sessions were much more challenging. One session where he had attempted to discuss Mary with an unmedicated-John he had earned himself a broken nose.

Yet, despite it all, John kept coming back. He had left two weeks after he arrived, but made subsequent visits back through the years. Dr. Morgan learned much about the Winchester family during those visits. John was always willing to discuss the boys, more than himself. He voice was always filled with pride when he talked about them. There was no doubt that they were his world. He would do anything for them.

That was why the last visit John had made to Dr. Morgan had been so heartbreaking.

***

_A despondent John stood on Dr. Morgan's porch. He was unshaven and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week._

_"Sam left," John confessed when the doctor sat him down in the office._

_"Why did he leave, John?"_

_"College," John spat out bitterly. "He just up and left us because he decided to run off and go to college."_

_"I see. You have told me that Sam has always enjoyed school. Are you surprised that he would want to go to college?"_

_"What the hell is college going to do for him?" John replied furiously. "Christ, we live in the real world! A world full of monsters and demons and death. He's knows that! That damn college isn't going to teach him how to survive. How keep fighting."_

_"But doesn't Sam have the right to choose his own life? He is 18 now, isn't he?"_

_John slammed his fist down on the desk._

_"He has a job to do! He has a family! He has a responsibility to his family! He doesn't give a shit though. Thinks that this will be better. That he can actually live a normal life. After everything that's happened!"_

_"Do you feel his choice was a selfish choice?"_

_John laughed bitterly. "It was a naïve choice. He thinks he knows what he's doing. He doesn't, though… he doesn't realize…" His voice trailed off._

_"John…"_

_John buried his face into his hands._

_"John, what is it you really are worried about?"_

_John sat silently for a moment. Finally he spoke._

_"It's not safe out there. Christ, I've seen what's out there. He thinks if he acts like it doesn't exist he can't get hurt. He's wrong though. And he's alone. I… I can't keep him safe out there. Especially now."_

_"Why do you say that, John?"_

_John let out a bitter laugh._

_"He hates me. Hates my guts. I'm sure he wishes I were dead. Or at least nonexistent. We… we had a fight the night he left. I told him… I told him not to come back…"_

***

Despite everything, nothing he could say would convince John to go talk to Sam and make amends. John was convince that Sam wanted nothing to do with him and rather than risk being hurt again by him, John simply would just avoid contact. It was heartbreaking to see.

Dr. Morgan had heard from Bobby when John had died. He had been happy to learn that him and Sam had some kind of reconciliation, but was saddened by the fact that peace was something this family could not find.

And now Dean was the next victim of this curse. While he couldn't solve everything, Dr. Morgan was determined to make sure Dean would have a chance at a happy life.


	17. Chapter 17

Hello, all! Just a quick little blurb here. I had considered ending the story in the next two chapters, but after getting some feedback and ideas from Witchcraft, I decided to write a little more! : ) So the next few chapters will be Dean's therapy sessions. Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 17

Dean slowly opened his eyes and blinked a couple times. He raised his head up and looked around, trying to remember where his was and what exactly had happened. His eyes fell on Castiel who was sitting in the chair next to the bed, looking at him intently. At that moment the memories of last night came flooding back to him. He sat up, trying not to look as anxious as he felt.

"Dude, it's fucking creepy when you do that. Stop staring at me," Dean said, trying to sound annoyed.

"Dr. Morgan asked me to watch over you to make sure you made no further attempts to harm yourself. That is what I am doing, Dean," Castiel replied calmly, unfazed by Dean's harshness.

Dean rolled his eyes and got out of bed. He felt surprisingly well rested, despite last night's events.

"How long have I been out?"

"Several hours. It is time for lunch."

They walked out to the kitchen area where Dr. Morgan was busy putting food onto the counter in order to make lunch. He looked up when Dean and Castiel entered.

"Ah, good to see you awake, Dean. Did you sleep well?"

Dean shrugged, feeling awkward. "Uh, yeah. I guess so."

"Good, I am glad to hear that. Well, I am making lunch now. While you're waiting why don't you give your brother a call? I spoke with him earlier and he is anxious to hear from you. You can use the cordless and talk to him from your room. We can give you some privacy."

Dean tensed. He had no idea what he was going to say to Sam now. At the time, his reasons seemed so valid. So logical. Like ridding the world of himself was the only solution out there.

Now he just felt like an ass.

He grabbed the phone and went back to the room, closing the door. He sat down on the bed and stared at the phone in his hand. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to dial Bobby's number and held the phone to his ear. The phone had barely finished ringing before Dean heard Sam's anxious voice answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Hey, Sam, it's me."

"Dean! Hey! How… how are you?"

"Good. Yeah, I'm… I'm good."

"That's… that's good, Dean. That's great… so… um… Dr. Morgan said you got some sleep."

"Yeah. Yeah I did. I think Castiel did his weird angel-knockout-thing. I was out for a while I guess."

"Yeah. You were sleeping when I called a few hours ago."

"Yeah, I know. The doc said you called."

"Yeah."

There was an awkward pause.

"So… um… yeah, so… you know what you're going to be doing today?" Sam asked.

"No. No, not really. He's making lunch right now. I guess we'll probably sit and talk like usual."

"Good. Yeah, that's good, Dean." There was a pause. "So… you… at these sessions… you talk, right?"

"Well, yeah. That's kind of the point."

"I know! I know, Dean. I mean… you talk about… stuff… like… I don't know… stuff that bothers you?"

Dean moistened his lips nervously. "Well, yeah. Like I said, that is the point."

"But you tell him the truth, right? Because… I mean… you know you can, Dean. He knows what we do and stuff. And he won't tell anyone. So it's not a big deal to talk to him, right? I mean… I know you… you don't always tell me everything… you know… everything bothering you, I mean."

"Sam-"

"It's OK, Dean! I how you are and you don't always tell me everything. I know that. I just… I just want you to tell someone about it, OK? I just… I…"

Dean could hear Sam's voice choke up on the other end of the line. He closed his eyes, feeling tears stinging them. He hated hearing Sam this upset, feeling worse knowing that he was the cause behind it.

"I talk, Sammy. I tell him because… I… I know that's what you want me to and I know you think he can help. So I'm trying, Sam. I am."

"Good," the relief in Sam's voice obvious. "I… I just want you better, Dean. I want you to feel better. I mean it."

A tear rolled down Dean's cheek. He knew he couldn't hold it together much longer.

"I… I know, Sam. I know. Hey, look, I… I have to go. I'll talk to you later, OK?"

"OK, Dean. Just… you can call me if you need to, OK? I mean it. I really want you to. Whatever you need."

"OK. I will, Sammy. I will."

"OK. So... I'll talk to you later, then."

"Yeah. OK."

"OK. Bye."

"Bye."

Dean hung up and dropped the phone on the bed. He buried his face into his hands and desperately tried to stop the tears that had begun streaming down his face. He cried for a few minutes before he was finally able to compose himself to go back to the kitchen.

Lunch was a quiet affair. Castiel had left to attend to something, but had said he would be back later to watch Dean. Dean pushed his food around his plate, his appetite was non-existent. Dr. Morgan said nothing, simply contenting himself with his meal.

Finally, after lunch was over, the two men went to Dr. Morgan's office. They each sat down in their usual spots. Dr. Morgan switched on the tape recorder and set it down on the desk. He finally turned his attention towards Dean.

"So, Dean. I would like to discuss the events that took place last evening."

Dean shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Last night was the last thing he wanted to talk about, but he had promised Sam he would try. "OK."

"I know yesterday you struggled, but we discussed a plan for you to use in case you were struggling with your drinking again, correct?"

"Yeah."

"So tell me, Dean. How did you feel when you left here yesterday?"

Dean shrugged. "I felt OK. I mean, I felt bad that I worried everyone and… I guess embarrassed."

"Were you upset with yourself?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I lied to Sam and did what I said I wasn't going to anymore. Of course I was mad at myself."

"Were you thinking about suicide when you left?"

Dean lowered his head and swallowed hard. He shook his head.

"So what happened when you got back to Bobby's?"

"Nothing much. We… we actually had a good time."

"What did you do?"

"Well, Bobby ordered pizza. We watched some movies. Talked about hunting. It… it was good. We had fun."

"So you were happy spending time with Bobby and Sam."

"Yeah."

"So, Dean, what happened after? What was it that changed to make you want to commit suicide?"

Dean flinched at the word. He stared at his hands and fidgeted. Talking about it made it so real. And painful.

"I… I went to sleep."

"What happened while you were asleep, Dean?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. The images, sounds, smells, heat, came flooding back to him.

"I… had another nightmare…"

"Tell me about this nightmare, Dean," Dr. Morgan pressed softly.

Tears began trickling down his cheeks. He could feel himself trembling and he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to feel some comfort.

"I was back…" He whispered. "I'm always back there… it's like I never leave… every time I go to sleep I'm there… and… I'm… I'm back to… to doing those… things… those horrible things I did while I was there… torturing all those souls… but… but in the nightmare I… I don't care… I don't care that I'm doing it… I… I _like_ doing it…every time I have this nightmare… and I always wake up just… just hating myself for it…"

"But this dream was different, Dean. Why did you respond differently to this one?"

Dean rocked back and forth, not able to control his response any more. "Because… it… it was Sammy this time… he was the one on the rack… and… he…" Dean could barely speak from crying so hard. "He was so scared… and… and I didn't do anything to help him… I didn't _care_ that it was him!"

Dr. Morgan was silent as Dean sobbed and then struggled to compose himself. Once he felt Dean was ready he quietly asked, "Did you torture Sam in your dream?"

Dean swallowed hard and shook his head. "I woke up before I did anything to him."

"What did you do after waking up?"

"Well… I… I wanted a drink really bad. I wanted to… to forget about all of it… so… so I thought about what we had talked about. About how I should talk to Sam when I want a drink. It… it was pretty late and I figured he'd be sleeping anyway, but… but I thought… maybe… maybe just if I saw him… saw that he was OK… you know… maybe I'd feel better…"

Dean fell silent.

"What happened when you went to talk to him, Dean?"

"He… wasn't sleeping. He was…on the phone… talking to Ruby…"

"And who is Ruby?"

Dean let out a bitter laugh. "A demon."

"Does Sam talk to Ruby often?"

"Yeah… yeah he does. You see Sam… Sam has these… powers… he can do all this crazy shit. But… they're demon powers. It's a long story. But Castiel said he shouldn't be using them. But Ruby wants him to. I… I don't know… but he's been meeting with her… a lot… secretly… and I know he's gotten more powerful…"

"Are you afraid for him?"

Dean shook his head. "No. Hell, I know I don't have to be. He can take care of himself because of her. He did it while I was gone. And I haven't helped him any since I've been back…"

"Did you talk to him about how you felt?"

Dean shook his head again. "I heard him tell her that he had to be around to take care of me. That it didn't matter that other shit was going on. And that's when I decided that all I was doing was holding him back. That he could… _do_ so much more if he didn't have to worry about me all the time… so I decided… I decided I wanted to end it… so I wrote him a note… got my gun… and drove off… figured it would be better for everyone… figured I wouldn't have to make anyone deal with my problems this way… I… I thought Sam might be able to focus on doing what he should be doing…"

"And now?"

Dean sat silently for a moment. "Now… now I see all I did was fuck everything up… _again_… I just hurt Sammy again…"

"How do think Sam feels about what has happened?"

Dean sighed. "He's said before that I hold him back… I mean… he wasn't exactly in control of what he was saying… but he… he can be as powerful as he wants to be… but instead he just… he just stays with me…"

"Why do you think he does that?"

"I… don't know…"

Dr. Morgan was quiet for a moment. Finally, he spoke.

"You said that when Sam said those things he wasn't in control of what he was saying, correct?"

Dean nodded.

"Have you said things to him when you weren't in control that may have been hurtful? Said things when you were angry?"

Dean hesitated for a moment before nodding.

"Do you love your brother any less since you have said them?"

Dean's head shot up. "No! Of course not!"

"So why should Sam love you any less? If he is as powerful as you say then he could leave any time he chose. If you are such a hindrance to him, then why does he stay? You aren't forcing him."

Dean sat quietly, absorbing he doctor's words.

"I… I hadn't thought about it that way…"

"I want you to think about that, Dean." Dr. Morgan stood up and walked behind his desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a notebook and pen. He closed the drawer and came back over to Dean. He held them out to him.

"I want you to take these, Dean. From now on I want you to start keeping a journal. I want you to write in it every day, your thoughts and feelings. I want to think about the things we discuss in these sessions and write about how you feel about them. You can choose whether or not you share this journal with me or anyone else. That is up to you. I do, however, want you to write in it daily. Doesn't have to be much. I want you to try it, though. OK?"

Dean hesitantly took the journal and looked at it. "I… I really suck at writing."

"It doesn't have to be perfect, Dean. This is just for you. You can write anything you want in whatever way you want."

Dean slowly nodded. "OK. I'll give it a try."


	18. Chapter 18

*sigh* This will show what a sad sad case I am! I actually went back and watched the clip from "Something Wicked," the flashback scene, and rewatched the clip where Dean is playing the video game just so I could figure out what it was! Which I then did a search on and actually found the game (Thank you, Wiki!) and learned that there's no way Dean could have been playing that game because it came out in 1992 and Dean would have had to of been 13 and Sam 9, which, I'm sorry, they don't look that old in the flashback! And that is my useless bit of knowledge for the day. Enjoy the chapter! ; )

Chapter 18

Dean walked down the path behind Dr. Morgan's house to a shaded area next to the lake. It was a beautiful afternoon. Dean could smell autumn in the breeze that ruffled his hair. The air was slightly cool, but more than comfortable since he was wearing his jacket. The sun was brightly shining and there were scattered white, puffy clouds in the sky. The some leaves on the trees had just started to change color. And it was quiet. And peaceful. It was probably the most peaceful spot Dean could remember being in for years.

He settled himself under a tree and looked at the notebook in his hands. It was a regular black and white composite notebook, all the pages blank inside. The pen the doctor had given him was a regular black ball point pen.

He had no idea what he was going to write about. For a moment he considered just telling the doctor that he was writing in it, but quickly dismissed the idea. He had promised he'd give it a try, and he had promised Sam that he would take all of this seriously.

He flipped the notebook open to the first page. He carefully wrote the date up in the top left corner. He looked up at the lake and thought for a few minutes, tapping the pen on the page. Finally, he sighed and wrote the first thing that came to mind:

_My name is Dean Winchester and I am a Hunter._

He studied the words carefully, feeling slightly pleased. He had to admit that he kind of enjoyed seeing that statement in writing. It gave him a small sense of pleasure. He decided to write some more.

_I have been hunting as long as I can remember. I have fought demons, vampires, banshees, changelings, shapeshifters, tricksters, poltergeists, ghosts, zombies, djinns, and probably more that I can't think of right now._

_My dad taught me to hunt. He was the best hunter there ever was. Now it's me and my brother who hunt. I like hunting. I'm good at it. I'll hunt every evil thing out there. I want to get rid of all of them. Don't care how long it takes me. Don't care if I die doing it. I just want to keep doing it. Because I know it's important. It's like a mission. It's something I have to do. _

Dean read back over what he wrote. Memories of past hunts flooded his mind. The first time he had actually seen one of the monsters his father hunted suddenly flashed to the front. He was 8 years old. That damn shrtiga…

***

_Dean was bored. He was often bored. Sammy, his four year old brother, was sound asleep in one of the motel beds. It was about 8 o'clock at night and there was absolutely nothing on TV worth watching. He had been stuck in that motel room for three days now with hardly any food left and even less to do._

_He flipped off the TV and decided to go. What was it going to hurt? He was only going to be gone for a few minutes. And wouldn't go far. Even if Sammy woke up he would be able to hear him call for him. He grabbed some change and the room key and went to the door. With one last glance he made sure Sam was still asleep before he went out into the spring night._

_He went into the registration building and into the side room where he had spotted a game room with a pool table and several arcade games. He spotted one, Andro Dunos, and headed over to it. He had heard about it on TV. It was the latest arcade game out there. He stuck in his quarter and was off._

_He had lost track of the time. It was easy enough to do when your whole concentration was on defeating the big boss and advance another level. The motel owner came in and told him it was time to go. Reluctantly, Dean turned away from the game and left. _

_He felt better since he was able to get out. And he hadn't heard Sam so he had to still be sleeping. He went and unlocked the door and came inside, quickly locking the door behind him. He then turned around to check Sammy._

_Why was the bedroom door partially closed?_

_Dean felt his stomach drop to the floor. He knew it hadn't been like that before. And Sam wouldn't have done that. If he had woken up and found Dean gone he would have raised holy hell about being alone. The air had changed too. It felt colder, much colder than when he left._

_He slowly walked up to the door and quietly pushed it open. His eyes were greeted with the sight of a large, dark figure dressed in a tattered robe leaning over Sam's limp figure. Dean could see the thing was breathing in some kind of mist that was coming off of Sam._

_It was the shrtiga. Dad had told Dean all about it before he had left. He had practically engrained every detail in his mind, because that was what hunters did._

_He reached for the shot gun sitting propped up next to the bedroom door. He picked it up and aimed, ready to take the creature out._

_And he felt himself panic. He held the gun steady; his father had taught him that enough so it was second nature. But he had never actually shot anything before. What if he missed? What if it went after him? What if he hit Sam?_

_He heard his father come in and yell for him to get out of the way. He dove for cover and watched John fearlessly stride in; shooting the creature several times before it dove out of the window. _

_John had been furious. After he had tucked Sam in the car John had come back into the room, grabbed Dean by the front of his shirt and smacked him across the face, telling him to _**never ever**_ disobey him like that again. After that, his father wouldn't say a word to him. He dropped them off at Pastor Jim's and left. Even after he finally came back for them two weeks later John barely spoke to him. _

_Dean worked so hard after that to be good. He never complained, never argued. He always did everything his father told him without hesitating. When John finally started talking to him again Dean absorbed every word he said like a sponge. He wanted to be good. He wanted to prove he could be trusted. He wanted to prove he wasn't a failure._

***

Dean looked back over what he had written, tears of guilt in his eyes.

_He had every right to hit me like that. To be as angry as he was. I didn't listen. Sammy could have died. God knows how many kids did die because of what I did. I had to fuck around and not listen. _

_One more sin to atone for. One more reason I don't deserve a normal life. Because no matter what I manage to fuck things up. I'll do things right for awhile, but sooner or later I'll fuck it up. God knows I've already done it enough just with this. _

_The doc is crazy. I don't know what the hell he thinks he can do for me. I still feel like shit. I mean, I don't want to die. That was just fucking stupid. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. But I don't see how he can make things better. He can't fix all the stupid crap I've done._


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Dean nervously fidgeted on Dr. Morgan's couch, glancing up from his hands every so often to look at the doctor who was carefully reading his journal entry. He hadn't intended on sharing it when he wrote. Dr. Morgan had said he didn't have to. But when he was asked if he written anything that he wanted to share in therapy that day Dean had just handed him the notebook.

After what seemed like an eternity to Dean, Dr. Morgan closed the notebook and handed it back to Dean, nodding thoughtfully.

"That was very good, Dean. Thank you for being so honest and sharing that with me."

Dean shrugged, looking down at the journal in his hands. "I… I just did what you told me to."

"Yes, you did. Would you mind if we discussed it a little bit further now, Dean?"

"I guess not."

"Good. Now, tell me, Dean, how did having such responsibility at that age make you feel?"

Dean looked up at him, taken aback by the question. "How did it make me feel?"

"Yes."

"I… I don't know…"

"Did you enjoy it?"

"No. I mean… I didn't hate it… I guess I just… you know… did it. I never really thought about it."

"Did that night change how you felt about that responsibility?"

Dean swallowed hard and slowly nodded. "Yeah. Yeah it did. I made sure I took it more seriously after that. I made sure I kept a closer eye on Sam. I worked harder at being a better hunter. I listened to everything Dad said. I tried to learn everything I was supposed to."

"And by doing all of those things, did you feel that by working harder and being a better hunter you would be able to protect your brother in case something were to threaten him?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Did you yourself want to be his protector?"

Dean looked at him, confused. "Why wouldn't I want to be?"

"I was wondering if you would have preferred your father have that role."

"Dad took care of both of us. I took care of Sam when Dad wasn't around to do it."

"And who was your protector at that time?"

Dean tensed slightly at the question.

"I took care of myself," he replied casually.

"Did you ever need help?"

Dean shook his head. "Not really."

"And it never bothered you to not have the kind of life the other children around you had? Where they could do as they wanted and not be hunters?"

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "I never wanted to be normal."

Dr. Morgan looked at him silently.

"I mean… yeah, sometimes I wondered what it might be like… but I didn't… you know… dwell on it. I had more important things to do. I did everything I could to make sure Sam had things more normal. That he wouldn't have to worry about stuff."

"You thought you had to worry about those things?"

"I knew what was out there. I knew about the monsters that go bump in the night. And I knew that I could protect myself. Sammy didn't know though. And he didn't know how to protect himself… not back then. That was my job. So… I mean, come on! You can't pretend to be normal. Not after all that."

Dr. Morgan nodded slowly.

"Were you happy, Dean?"

Dean looked at him and frowned in confusion. "Happy?"

The doctor nodded. "Where you happy in that role growing up? You said you didn't think either way about, but were you happy?"

Dean let out a nervous laugh. "Well… yeah. Yeah, I was happy. I mean, Sam and I had fun growing up. You know… we didn't have a lot. But we still had fun."

Suddenly a large grin broke out over Dean's face.

"Like, there was this one time when I was… I dunno… 11… 12… Sammy and I were staying in this one motel up on the third floor and there was this old bitch that worked at the convenience store down the block who was hooking up with the motel manager. She always gave us a hard time when we went into her store, especially Sam. I don't know what the hell her problem was, but she just did not like him for some reason. Always made him turn out his pockets and shit before we left, like he had tried stealing something. So, anyway, the bitch was actually married and cheating on her husband with this motel manager. So one night Sam and I decided to mess with her. Dad got us this really awesome noise box that made all kinds of different noises and one of them was a police siren. Then we got Dad's big flashlight that he sometimes used for hunts if he needed extra light, but he had left it home. And then we recorded a cop show where they yell _Come out with your hands up_! It was summer so everyone had their windows open so we set up the noise box and recorder right next to the window and, when we were sure they were sleeping, we turned the light on and shone it right in the window. Then we turned on the noise box and recorder full blast!" Dean was laughing like crazy at the memory. "Dude, that was the funniest thing I had ever seen! She jumped out of bed butt-ass naked and started screaming that her husband knew and had sent the cops! She ran into the bathroom and locked herself in! The manager was flipping out, banging on the door and screaming for her to come out while trying to put some pants on! Sam and I laughed so damn hard we almost peed ourselves! We barely got out of there with everything before he got to the door!"

He was trying to fight it, but Dean could see that even Dr. Morgan was smirking at the story. He politely coughed to try to hide it.

"So you and Sam… you liked to play jokes on people?"

"Oh yeah! Especially on each other. Man, we were brutal on each other! We started out simple. Short-sheeting the beds. Toilet-papering Sam's side of the motel room. Hiding Sam's underwear in a snowbank outside. Pushing Sam into the girl's locker room at the beach when he was 4."

"And did he ever get you back for those things?"

Dean laughed and nodded.

"Oh yeah! What can I say, he learned from the best? Dyed all my socks and underwear pink. Shaved off one of my eyebrows. Wrote _for a good time call Dean _and then my cell phone number on the men's bathroom wall at a truck stop. The scary part about that one though was how many calls I got! Had to change my number after that! But the last prank war we had, ah man! Don't tell him I said this, but man, that bastard got me good! He super-glued my hand to the beer bottle I was drinking! I never saw it coming either." Dean leaned back on the couch, grinning. "You know, I still need to get him back for that one. Hmm… wonder what I could do…?"

Dr. Morgan smiled at him.

"Sam is a good brother to you."

Dean nodded, grinning. "Yeah. Yeah, he is."

Dr. Morgan was quiet for a moment, thinking. Finally he spoke.

"Dean, I would like you to do something for me tomorrow's session, alright?"

"Sure, doc. What?"

"I want you to write in your journal again. Except this time I want you to write two lists for me. Do you think you can do that?"

"Uh, yeah I guess so. What lists do you want?"

"The first list, Dean, I would like you to write out five positive things about yourself."

Dean stared at him and gave him a look of _Are you kidding me?_ Dr. Morgan smiled.

"I want you to start focusing more on the positive, Dean. Especially the positive things about yourself. I know for some people this can be a challenging exercise, so I want you come up with at least five, but would love to see more. OK?"

Dean rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Alright," he said reluctantly.

"Good. Now, the second one is a little easier. I want you to make a list of things that make you happy. Anything you can think of, no matter how minor or silly you think it may be."

Dean arched an eyebrow at him.

"Dude, are we going to watch _Barney and Friends_ too while we're at it tomorrow?"

Dr. Morgan chuckled.

"No, I'm afraid not. I promise, though, Dean that these lists will serve a purpose later. Will you give them a try?"

Dean sighed and nodded.

"Yeah… I'll try."

"Excellent."

Dean stood up with his journal, getting ready to leave when Dr. Morgan stopped him.

"Dean, one more thing. I was wondering if you would be agreeable to a group therapy session at some point. I wanted to invite Sam and Bobby to meet with us as well. Just for one session. Would that be alright with you?"

Dean hesitated a moment before shrugging.

"Yeah… sure. That's fine. What's it for?"

"I like to talk to friends and family members in a group together every so often. Mainly to see family dynamics and it sometimes gives me a new perspective on my patient."

"Oh. OK. Yeah, that's fine."

"Excellent. You go ahead then and I'm going to give Bobby a call."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

_This will be easy_, Dean reassured himself over and over as he made his way down to his spot by the lake. _Just write positive crap. How hard can that be?_

He settled himself under the tree and flipped open the notebook. On a new page he wrote the date up in the corner and in the top center of the page wrote _5 Things I Do Well_. He looked it over and nodded.

OK. Sooo… what to write on the list?

_I am one of the best hunters out there_.

OK. That wasn't too hard. Dean thought for a few minutes and frowned. Five things? Jesus, how the hell was he supposed to come up with _five_? He was struggling to come up with a second one!

He looked out over the lake. Finally, he came up with a second:

_I can fix my car up to run like new, even after she's been hit by a Mac truck!_

Dean smiled proudly to himself. Yeah, he had been damn proud of himself after he had fixed his baby back up after the accident. There had been a few times where he had wondered if it was even going to be possible, especially after he had lost it that day and beat the shit out of the back trunk. He had done it, though, and the whole thing had made him love that car that much more.

What else?

_I've saved a lot of lives._

He had to admit to himself that over the years he had saved many lives. Hell, it was because of him an entire town had been spared from being smited by that sociopath angel, Uriel. Every day when he did his job he was able to save another life. Not many people could say that.

_4…._

Damn it. This was getting really hard. And the doc made people try to come up with more than five usually? He scowled at the page in front of him, as if trying to will the last two onto the page for him.

He tried to think of things other people had said about him. Well, he had been told plenty of times he was a dick. That wasn't exactly helpful for this assignment.

What else? Suddenly he thought of the last girl he had hooked up with. He smirked as he remembered what she had told him after their night together.

_I totally rock women's worlds in bed._

Hey, the doc hadn't said anything was off limits!

OK. Last one.

_Come on, Dean. You just need to come up with one more._

He went back to thinking about what other people had said about him. Anything people had said about him. Well, anything positive people had said about him that didn't make him want to puke.

Sam was also saying nice stuff to him. But, then, well, that was how Sam was. He always said nice stuff to everyone. But… it was different when he told Dean nice things. Because even when he said nice things to him, it wasn't the typical bullshit other people would say. Sam always meant what he said. That's one of the reasons Dean always liked having Sam around. Even when he was whining or complaining about something, because that is something else Sam was good for, he was always there for him. Even after all this. Even after Dean tried again and again to push him away, Sam stayed.

And that's why he loved his brother as much as he did. Because he was his best friend. His only real friend.

_I would do anything for my brother._

Dean looked back over his list, nodding slowly, satisfied with what he had written. That would have to do. He couldn't think of anything else.

Well, on to the easier list! Dean could think of plenty of things that made him happy.

_Food_

_The car_

_Sex_

_Pie. And that's not the same as food. Pie is a whole separate category_

_Hunting_

_That Magic Fingers thing that some of the motel beds have_

_Porn_

_Beer_

He paused after writing the last one and frowned. Dammit. He really did like beer. And not always to get drunk. Hell, liquor was much better for that then beer. But there were nights after a hunt where all he wanted to do is get some take out, find something on the TV and then have a beer or two. Damn. Guess he couldn't do that anymore. Well, maybe he could find some non-alcoholic crap that tasted OK. He was sure Sam would know what was good. Sam probably had drank that shit in college.

Anyway. Back to the list.

_Talking to girls in the bars. _

_Picking up girls in the bars._

_Flirting in general._

_Metallica. They are the kings of rock. Hands down._

_Playing pool. Oh, I'm really good at hustling pool. I don't know if I should add that to my other list. But I do really like pool. Dad taught me how to play ad I got good enough to kick ass at it._

_Building stuff. I built my own EMF one time. That thing was pretty damn cool. It got destroyed in the accident and Sam insisted we get a "real" one. But I bet I could totally build another one. Maybe I will. Wonder of Doc or Bobby has an old walkman I could use._

_Movies. Good movies though. Movies like Star Wars. Saw. Crank. Fast and the Furious. Friday the 13__th__. Especially that one. I know between Sam and me we could totally kick Jason's ass. Salt and burn, baby. Salt and burn._

_Working on my gun. That's a damn good gun and I keep that baby in perfect condition._

_Finishing up a hunt. That's always a good feeling. A satisfying one._

Dean paused for a moment, looking over his list. With a reluctant sigh he began writing.

_OK. OK. Back to movies. There is one movie that I really like, but I'd never hear the end of it if I told people. Alright. The one movie I really do like is that Walk to Remember. Yeah yeah. I know it's a damn chick flick! But it was after Sam left and Dad was on a hunt and I had nothing else to do. So I got a little drunk and watched it and it was actually really good. So, yeah. Whatever._

_Well, since I am kind of confessing stuff. One thing I've always thought about learning to do is play the guitar. Yeah, I know I can't sing for shit, but I thought it'd be cool to learn how to play. There's something relaxing it about it._

_Sometimes I think having a normal life would make me happy. This one time a djinn showed me what life could have been like. It was awesome. I had a normal life. I had a girl. A house. I got to mow the lawn. Sam was getting married to Jess. It was great. And then I think about having a family. Like a wife and kids and the whole thing. There was this one woman, Lisa. She and I had hooked up a long time ago. Now she has a kid named Ben. Damn, that has to be the coolest kid ever. I actually thought for a little while that he could have been mine, but I guess he's not. But, even when I thought he could be, I was kind of freaked out, but I also was really excited. I mean, at the time it really sucked because I couldn't do anything. I knew I was going to Hell in a few months. I couldn't become a part of his life, even though Lisa said I could be. But I still think about them both. Almost every day. There's this one dream I used to have, before Hell that I'd have about her and Ben. Loved that damn dream. We'd be at the park or somewhere private. Just the two of us. Having a picnic. We'd have this awesome picnic, make love on the blanket after. And then we'd go pick up Ben from school. Sometimes we'd play ball or go for a walk. But that dream always made me happy. _

Dean stopped and closed his eyes, wiping away the tears that had escaped. He quickly shut the journal, deciding that was enough for one day.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Dean spent the rest of the afternoon randomly adding things he thought of to his list. He did his best to avoid reading his earlier entry; the thoughts that were evoked were too poignant for him to think about.

He got up the next morning and ate breakfast, not thinking too much about his upcoming session. Dr. Morgan sat at the table, calmly reading the paper and then occasionally checking his watch.

"Got a hot date?" Dean quipped after the doctor had looked at his watch for the fifth time.

Dr. Morgan smiled.

"Actually, Dean, I am expecting someone. And I also wanted to let you know that our session today will be a little different than usual."

Dean frowned. "Different?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes. I wanted to try something new. Ah! And here they are!"

Dean followed his gaze out the window and saw Bobby's car pull up in front of the house. Dean's heart leapt to his throat when he saw Bobby and Sam get out and head to the porch. Dr. Morgan studied Dean's face carefully.

"Will this be alright for you, Dean? I thought we could try having a group session today."

Dean tried to casually shrug and act nonchalant. "Yeah. Sure. No problem."

They both got up and went to the front door. Dr. Morgan opened the door and greeted the two men standing there with a big smile.

"Bobby! Sam! I am very glad you could make it!" He said, standing aside so they could enter.

"Thanks, Leo. Glad to be here," Bobby said walking in. He looked at Dean and gave him a quick nod. "Dean. Good to see you, boy."

Dean nervously stood in the hallway, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He forced a smile back at Bobby. "Good to see you too, Bobby."

Sam came in behind Bobby. He looked at Dean and a happy, but anxious smile came to his face.

"Hey, Dean. How's it going?" He asked nervously.

Dean swallowed the lump he could feel forming and plastered on his brave face.

"Good. I'm good. It's… it's good to see you."

The brothers stood there awkwardly for a few minutes, uncertain of what to say to each other. Finally, Dr. Morgan broke the tension by motioning everyone to his study.

"Let's all come back here and we'll get started, shall we?"

Everyone went to the office and settled into the seats with Dean and Dr. Morgan taking their regular spots.

Dean could feel his hands tremble and his heart was thundering in his chest. Christ, why the hell was he so nervous? It was just Sam and Bobby! He couldn't shake the feeling though. He also couldn't bring himself to meet Sam's eyes. The shame of what he had put Sam through gnawed at his gut and made him sick. He sat on the couch and clutched his notebook tightly in his hands, desperate for something to hang onto.

Once everyone was settled Dr. Morgan started the recorder and cleared his throat.

"So, gentlemen, I wanted everyone here today so we can talk about Dean and what has been going on the last few months. There are several areas I would like to address, but today I want to start with Dean himself." He turned to Dean and smiled gently. "Dean, how about we start with that first list I had you make, the five positives about yourself?"

Dean squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Shit. It was one thing to share stuff with the doc. It didn't matter what he said to him because he never seemed to judge him on it.

"Now?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"Yes, Dean," Dr. Morgan replied patiently. "Go ahead."

Dean reluctantly opened the notebook and flipped open to the page with the list, not daring to look up to see Bobby and Sam's reaction. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Um… well… I'm a good hunter," He said hesitantly. He glanced up at Dr. Morgan, who nodded at him encouragingly.

"Well, that's an understatement!" Bobby said with a sigh. "Jesus, Dean, I've seen some of the crap you've gone after! I think you can rate yourself a little higher on the scale than just _good_!"

Sam nodded. "He is right, Dean."

Dean let out a nervous breath and grinned. "Oh, well then if I don't have to be modest… I'm one of the best hunters in world! Hell, the universe!"

Everyone laughed and Dean felt himself relax some more. Maybe this wouldn't be quite so bad.

"Very good, Dean. What's the second thing?" Dr. Morgan asked.

"Uh…" Dean looked at the page. "I can fix my car up like new no matter what happens to her! Fixed her up after she got hit by a Mac truck!"

Dr. Morgan looked at him, impressed. Bobby nodded emphatically.

"There's no arguing that one! Never seen someone work on a car like he did! Anyone else would have scrapped the thing! Fixed that car up and you'd never know anything happened to it!"

"Excellent, Dean. How about number 3?"

Dean hesitated before reading it. "… I… I've saved a lot of lives…"

Bobby began nodding again. Sam nodded as well.

"Yeah you have. You've saved my life more times than I can count," Sam said quietly.

Dean swallowed hard at his words, not sure how to react.

"You've saved mine too," Bobby said. "That whole dream walking shenanigans would have killed me if you hadn't figured out how to get me out of there."

Dr. Morgan looked at Dean, studying his face. "How do you feel about saving so many lives, Dean?"

Dean shrugged, not being able to bring himself to look up. "I… I just… you know… do it. I don't think about it. It's the right thing to do. I have to do it."

"Why is that, Dean? Why do you believe you have to save lives?"

Dean looked at him, surprised.

"Seriously? Because I know I can. Because who else is going to? Shit, I've seen what would have happened if our lives had been different. A lot of innocent people would be dead. No one else out there really knows what's going on. I do. Sam and Bobby are probably the only other two out there who really know. The world is going to end if I don't get out there and do something about it. And saving people and hunting these monsters out there… it's the least I can do…" His voice caught and he quickly looked down, not wanting to go further.

"Why do you believe that saving people is the least you can do? Because of what happened in Hell?" Dr. Morgan gently pressed.

Dean visibly flinched and his eyes flew over to Bobby. He hadn't told Bobby what had really happened down there and he wasn't sure what Sam had said. Bobby looked back at him and cleared his throat.

"It's OK, Dean," Bobby said gruffly, trying to hide some of the emotion in his voice. "I made Sam tell me everything. I admit, I had a feeling about most it already, but Sam confirmed it."

Dean looked back down at his hands and could feel the tears stinging his eyes. Damn it, he could let himself cry! Not here! Not in front of them! He leaned his head on one hand, trying to hide his face as he struggled to regain control.

"Dean, how do you feel about Bobby knowing?"

Dean swallowed hard and shrugged, not looking up.

"He already figured it out," He managed to choke out. "It's… it's no big deal."

The group was quiet for a minute. Sam was leaned forward, sadly watching Dean. Bobby was looking helplessly between Dean, Sam, and Dr. Morgan, uncertain of what to say. Dr. Morgan still appeared calm. He looked over at Bobby and smiled.

"Tell me, Bobby. When did you first meet Dean?"

Bobby visibly relaxed and leaned back in his chair, a grin came over his face.

"Well, I met both of these boys, oh, about 23, maybe 24 years ago now. Dean, hell, the scrawniest little troublemaker I had ever seen! He was only 6 or 7 at the time and he had little Sam in tow with him where ever he went!" Bobby chuckled at the memory. "Got into every book I had in the damn house! And I don't think I had ever been asked so many questions in my entire life! _What's this book, Bobby? What are the funny pictures on the wall for? Why do have so many candles?_ I didn't know if I wanted to kill John for bringing them over or just sit and laugh at how curious they both were!"

Dean was looking up now and grinning at the memory. Even Sam was chuckling.

"There was this one time, though. I'll never forget it! John and I were talking and Sam was sitting on the floor playing with Dean and then Dean had to go to the bathroom. That boy came right up to me and as serious as could be said, _Could you watch my brother for me while I go to the bathroom? I'll be right back!_ I nearly fell over! It was obvious right then and there for me that Dean would always be looking out for Sam, no matter what."

Dr. Morgan smiled and looked over at Sam.

"Sam, what about your memories about you and Dean growing up? Do you have any you would like to share?"

Sam hesitated a moment before smiling and nodding.

"Actually, there was this one time, about 10 years ago. It was just me and Dean, Dad was off on a hunt. There was this girl at my school, Tracey. She was in my math class and I had the biggest crush on her."

Dean suddenly remembered what Sam was talking about and smiled.

"Tracey? Dark hair and big boobs Tracey?"

Sam scowled at him. "It wasn't just that she had big boobs!"

"They helped!"

"_Anyway, _I really liked her, but I couldn't bring myself to ask her out."

"I don't know why! That day at the diner she was grinning at you and flirting so much the whole place knew she liked you!"

"Well, hey, I didn't know!"

"And that's why I told you to ask her out!"

"And I did, even though I really didn't think she'd say yes."

"But she did!"

"Yeah she did. We wound up going to the Spring Formal together too. That was fun." Sam looked over at Dr. Morgan. "Dean really helped me out for that night. Took me out to help me get clothes for it. Convinced me to give her a rose…"

"Yeah, and didn't she love it?" Dean asked proudly.

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, she loved it. And he even let me borrow the car that night."

"Well, how else were you supposed to get her there?"

"I know. I just couldn't believe it."

"Don't worry. I got another car to follow you the whole way in."

Sam laughed. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Dr. Morgan smiled. "Did Dean do a lot of things like that when you were growing up?"

Sam nodded. "Always. He's always watched out for me. Made sure we had a Christmas every year. Always came to my soccer games when I did soccer. He taught me how to drive, hell, even taught me how to ride a bike! Any time I had a problem Dean was right there to help me. Even…" Sam began to get choked up. "Even when I died. He still was there."

The mood in the room shift and the group fell silent. Dean swallowed hard.

"I had to, Sam. You know that."

"I know, Dean, but…"

"No buts, Sam. I did it. It's done."

"But it's not done, Dean! You can't say that! Why do you think we're here now?"

"We're here because I fucked up, Sammy, and let myself get out of control! It's my own fault all this shit has happened!"

"How can you say that!? Dean, none of this is your fault!"

Dean laughed bitterly. "This is all my fault! I didn't protect you enough! I should have watched over you better! I should have never have let you get taken to that god damn town with by Yellow Eyes! I should have been able to find you sooner! And I should have kept a closer eye on you when you went to college! I should have just stayed there and made sure you were safe!"

"I was safe, Dean!"

"But then I came along and fucked it all up!"

"That wasn't your fault, Dean! You couldn't have stopped that!"

Dean swallowed hard and tears began filling his eyes.

"Maybe not. But you know what I could have stopped? I could have saved Dad. I should have just died. I should have just let that reaper take me. Everyone would have been better off and Dad would still be here."

Sam and Bobby stared at him, stunned.

"You don't mean that," Sam whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

Dean nodded emphatically, not bothering to hide the tears now.

"Dad should be the one here, not me! Dad could have stopped all of this from happening! He could have kept you safe and he could have killed that demon before all this other shit happened! He would never have let you get taken and he would never have let you get killed!"

"Boy, what the hell are you talking about?" Bobby growled. "No one could have seen what was going to happen, not even your father! Stop being so god damn hard on yourself!"

Dean shook his head. "He would have figured it out! He was already figuring it out! He just couldn't see the connections yet! If he was still here he would have it figured out by now! But he died because of me! Because I fucked things up. And…" Dean's shoulders began shaking as he began sobbing. "I know! I… I know! He… they… he had to go through it too! I know he did! I know they put him on the rack too! And for what? He died and then I fucked it all up and let you die, Sam!"

He stood up, furious and anguished as the confessions spilled out of him. He furiously threw the notebook across the room and stormed out, not wanting to see Bobby and Sam's faces as he left.


	22. Chapter 22

OK! So I have to admit that writing angsty-Dean is sooooooo much easier than happy Dean! So, we're just gonna keep going down angsty-Dean road! And I am on a roll so I decided to write one more chapter and update for all my eager readers! You guys are awesome! : )

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Chapter 22

Everyone fell into a stunned silence as Dean flew out of the room. Sam's eyes filled with tears and he buried his face in his hands. Dr. Morgan took a deep breath and looked at Bobby. Bobby's eyes narrowed and he stood up.

"That's it! I've had it!"

"Now, Bobby, you know this process takes time. He has a lot of things going on internally…" Dr. Morgan began.

"The hell with that! I am _not_ going to let that boy go off again and leave a note for his brother saying he's going to blow his God damn head off! Jesus Christ, I've had it! I've seen it too many times already, Leo! Too many God damn times! That boy is like a son to me and I already watched him die once! Like hell am I going to let that happen again!" Bobby turned and went out after Dean.

***

Dean walked out of the house, his body shaking with sobs. Images of Hell were coming in flashes. The smell of sulfur mixing with the scent of the pine trees. His body felt like it was on fire and sweat was pouring down his body. He could still feel the blade of the knife neatly slicing into his skin; hear his screams mixing in with the souls around him. He managed to make it to his spot by the lake before he was overwhelmed and collapsed to his knees.

***

_Alistair's demonic face was above. Dean was helplessly tied down to the rack. He had been screaming for Sam for what seemed like years to no avail. He was so alone. _

_"Scream, Dean," Alistair snarled viciously. "I want to hear you beg again."_

_Alistair stabbed the knife down into his right arm. Dean could feel the tendons and ligaments snap as they were cut through. He screamed and sobbed in pain. When had he stopped trying to hide his pain? He couldn't remember any more._

_"This is what I did to your daddy every day, Dean," Alistair hissed in his ear with a grin. "I sliced and diced him every day and listened to him scream for you and Sam! Funny he'd ask for you since it was your fault he was here in the first place! What a disappointment you must be to him now! All pathetic and pitiful here before me. All because you couldn't save your precious little Sammy! Foolish pathetic Dean Winchester. Wonder what Daddy would say if he were here now?_

_Dean looked over and blinked. Suddenly, in Alistair's place, stood John who was looking down on him, holding the bloody knife in his hand._

_"Dad?" Dean gasped. "Dad, please! Please help me!"_

_John looked down at the knife and then back at Dean. His face twisted into rage._

_"Help you?" John growled furiously. "Why the fuck would I help you? You stupid fucking piece of shit! I gave you one job, Dean! One job! Take care of your little brother! Could you do that? Could you manage that one fucking thing? NO!!! YOU LET HIM DIE!!! You let your brother die right in front of you! I sacrificed myself so you could keep him safe and what happens? You let him die and now look at you! Here you are! You should have died that day, Dean! You should have died! I wish like hell you had! You've always been a disappointment to me!!!"_

_With that he plunged the knife down in Dean's gut and twisted it. Dean screamed in agony._

_"NO!!! Please, Dad! Please no! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I failed, Dad! Please don't hate me! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"_

***

Bobby found Dean curled up in a fetal position on the ground, sobbing hysterically and screaming. He knew instantly that Dean was having a flashback and ran towards him. He wrapped his arms tight around him and held him close.

"Wake up, Dean! It's not real! Come on, Dean!" Bobby said, rocking him gently.

"I'm sorry, Dad! I'm sorry I failed! I'm so I let Sam die! Please! Please, Dad! Help me! HELP!" Dean wailed.

Bobby finally let go enough to turn Dean to face him.

"Look at me, Dean! You're not there! You're at Dr. Morgan's house! You safe! Look at me, Dean!"

Dean finally opened his eyes and blinked a few times, confused. Slowly, he became aware of where he was. He looked around, panting for air. Bobby stayed close by, watching him carefully.

"It's OK, Dean," Bobby said gently. "You're safe here."

Dean looked at Bobby. The helplessness and utter despair was written across his face.

"I should have died, Bobby," Dean whispered. He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. "I sent Dad to Hell when I should have just died!"

Bobby looked at him stunned for a moment. He then reached over and grabbed Dean by the shoulders.

"Dean! God damn it, Dean Winchester, you look me in the eye, boy!"

Dean slowly looked up at him.

"Is that what all this is about? You think you sent John to Hell?"

Dean slowly nodded.

"You God damn idgit! I smack you upside the head for thinking that kind of damn nonsense! Now, you listen to me close, boy, and you better be listening darn good cuz I am _not_ going to say this to you again! It is NOT your fault about what happened with your father, you hear me? Your father was a stubborn ass who roped me and Sam into summoning that damn demon in the first place! Then he was the one who made that deal, _not_ you! You were in a god damn coma! How the hell was it your fault? Did you ask him to make that deal? Hell, if you want to blame anyone, blame me! I was the one who gave Sam the shit he needed to summon the bastard in the first place! And even if I hadn't, your dad would have found a way to summon it anyways! So you quit that bull shit right now!"

Dean stared at Bobby, taken aback by what he had said.

"But… but Sam…"

"And before you even start on that whole thing that wasn't your fault either! You couldn't have stopped Sam from dying anymore than I could have, and I was right there next to you! Damn it, Dean! Stop blaming yourself for every rotten thing that happens! Shit happens! Life, especially the life of a hunter, is hell! Bad things happen to us! But that's the way it is and you can't blame yourself for every last thing that goes wrong! All you can do is face it and deal with it."

Dean sat quietly for a moment, absorbing Bobby's words.

"I… I'm sorry…" Dean whispered, tears filling his eyes again. "I just… it gets to be too much, Bobby. It always hurts. Even when I think I'm getting better. It just hurts so much and I just want the hurt to stop. And I hate letting Sammy see how bad it is."

Tears filled Bobby's eyes.

"Damn it, boy." He pulled Dean into a warm hug, the tears began making their way down his face and wetting his beard. "You have to keep fighting, Dean. Damn it, you have to! You and Sam are like the sons I never got the chance to have! Christ, I've had to see both of you die once already and there was nothing I could do to stop it! I won't let you take yourself away from me again, you hear me? So help me God, I don't care what I have to do!"

Bobby's words went straight to Dean's heart, healing some of the hurt that had been there for so long. Both men sat there, letting the tears fall without feeling the need to hide them. It was a few minutes before they were able to get themselves under control.

Bobby let Dean go and carefully stood up. He held his hand out to Dean and helped him to his feet, giving him a pat on the back.

"Come on now," Bobby said his voice slightly gruff. "Don't want to leave Sam alone in there with Leo too long!"

The two men began making their way back to the house.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"This process takes time," Dr. Morgan said gently to Sam who sat miserably in the nearby chair. "Dean has a lot of internal conflict right now that he's struggling to cope with. Issues that the alcohol was masking, but now are coming to the surface. Add in the post traumatic stress he's experiencing and these outbursts are going to quite frequent in the beginning. Until he learns how to cope with it all."

Sam nodded silently, wiping away the tears running down his face.

"I just want to do something," He whispered softly. "I just want to make it so he doesn't have to hurt this way anymore."

"You're doing everything you possibly can, Sam."

Sam let out a bitter laugh.

"Am I?"

"What else do you think you should be doing?"

Sam looked silently down at his hands, the pain and guilt clearly written across his face. Dr. Morgan instantly knew that Sam had been having struggles of his that he hadn't been sharing.

_A family full of secrets_, He thought to himself.

"Sam? Do you think you could be doing more for Dean?"

Sam let out a shaky breath and nodded.

"I… I shouldn't have been lying to him."

"Lying about what, Sam?"

Sam wiped his face with his hand, shaking his head.

"I… I've done… things… really… _really_ bad things… things I swore to Dean I would never do… but I did… after…" Sam began to get choked up, struggling to speak. "After Dean was… gone… I didn't care… I wanted to die… I couldn't save him… I tried everything… but I couldn't save him…"

He took a deep breath before continuing on.

"And then… she showed up… and I didn't care anymore… because I… I couldn't save him… but I tried… before he went… I did everything I could think of… but… I couldn't… and she came… so I decided it didn't matter… nothing mattered… so I just did what she said… I don't know… I… I thought it would maybe help… somehow…"

"And did it help, Sam?"

Sam shrugged helplessly.

"I… I don't know… but… she said it would make all this end… maybe help Dean… but…" He shook his head and wiped his eyes. "I've done some… some awful things… things I'd swear I'd never do… but… but I've done them… and now… I can't stop it now… and the worst thing is I've lied to Dean about it…"

"Why don't you tell him the truth now?"

Sam laughed bitterly.

"Tell him now? God, he hates himself enough as it is! He'd hate me too and then probably find a way to blame himself for this too!" He shook his head. "I can't… I can't tell him now…"

"What have you done, Sam? What do you feel you have done wrong?"

Sam looked up at the doctor sadly.

"I… I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

Sam swallowed hard and shook his head.

"Because you can't change it. Nobody can. I've already set everything in motion. I can't stop it now… besides… I can't even think about that now… not with Dean like this…"

Dr. Morgan frowned at Sam's reaction. Instinctively he could tell there was something serious about Sam's confession, as limited as what he had been told.

_Damn it, John, look at what you left behind, _The doctor thought sadly to himself.

"Have you told anyone else about this, Sam?"

Sam shook his head.

"No… but…" He ran his hand anxiously through his hair. "Castiel… and… and Uriel… they know… I mean… of course they know… they see everything…"

"But you don't think they can help you?"

Sam looked at Dr. Morgan in amazement.

"How can they possibly help now? They can't even help Dean with this!"

"Castiel brought Dean to me that night. You don't feel that was helping him?"

Sam shook his head.

"If Castiel really wanted to help him then he would make the nightmares go away. He'd make the memories go away. He could fix it so Dean didn't want to kill himself all the time!"

"So why do you think he doesn't help him? What reason would he have to let Dean be this way?"

Sam leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. He let out a long sigh.

"Because… because all those stories about angels being merciful… being _guardians_… it's a bunch of crap. All of it."

"Because they didn't help Dean the way you wanted them to? Castiel did bring Dean out of Hell."

Sam laughed bitterly.

"And look at what happened to him." He shook closed his eyes and shook his head. "He's tries. He tries like hell to act like he's fine. Like it doesn't bother him. But I know it does."

"Why do you think he does that?"

"Because that is what Dean Winchester does. Because that's what Dad did so that's what Dean does. You pretend everything is fine. That living this insane life doesn't both you. That you can hunt monsters and demons day in and day out and you can go to bed at night without it affecting you. But… but now he can't pretend anymore. He's run out of stuff to hide behind."

Dr. Morgan nodded slowly.

"So why are you trying to do the same, Sam?"

Sam looked up at him sharply. "What?"

"You say that Dean and your father always tried to hide behind things to mask their true feelings. From the tone of your voice you don't agree with that method of coping, yet you are doing the same thing. You blame the angels for how Dean is now. You say you have no control over the things that you are currently experiencing in your life, so there is no reason to discuss it. But yet you do choose to discuss some of it you are clearly unhappy. So why do you choose to hide, Sam? Why do you expect Dean to share what he is going through, but you do not hold yourself to the same standard?"

Sam stared at him, stunned. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, too startled to speak. Finally, he let out a deep breath.

"Because… because what happened to Dean wasn't his fault. He didn't choose for things to wind up like they did. I… I made a choice… and I can't go back on it now…"

"Why not?"

"Because it's too late… I'm in so deep now that… that I don't know how I can possibly get out of it…" He closed his eyes and lowered his head. "I… I don't know if… if I _want_ to get out of it now…"

Dr. Morgan felt a chill go through him. There was something in Sam's voice, something that hadn't been there before when he had spoken to him. The gently, loving, devoted brother that was normally there had slipped away for the briefest of moments and had shown a side that was… different. Darker. More sinister. Sam was in to something deeper. Darker than what Dean or Bobby knew about. He knew some of it from his discussions with Castiel. The demon girl that Sam had been consorting with while Dean was gone those months. That Sam still was seeing even now.

While Castiel had said that Sam was refusing to see her while Dean was sick, she continued to be persistent. Castiel had told him of one fight the two had the other night. She had insisted Sam come with her, just for that night and Sam had refused. She had argued, saying that Dean was dragging him down, making him weaker, as weak as Dean had become. Sam had flew into a rage, nearly killing the girl with his bare hands.

That was where Castiel had stopped leaving the doctor to wonder, _how could Sam do that?_

Suddenly, they both heard the front door open. Dr. Morgan sighed and smiled gently at Sam.

"I do believe we will be continuing our session with everyone."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Bobby and Sam pulled up in front of Bobby's house, both exhausted beyond words. They silently got out of the car and made their way inside the house, saying nothing the whole time.

The rest of the session hadn't gone as well as Bobby had hoped. Dean had been quiet the rest of the time, barely responding to the doctor's questions. It had been obvious too that Sam had been making confessions of his own, the pain and guilt clearly in his eyes.

Sam mumbled something about having a headache and needing some rest. He quickly dashed up the stairs to his room. Bobby let out a sigh that he hadn't realized he had been holding.

_Damn Winchesters_, Bobby couldn't help thinking to himself. _Damn it, John, you managed to raise yourself two boys as stubborn and fucked up as you._

He sat down at his desk and stared at the books and papers scattered about. Slowly, he opened one of the drawers and began rummaging through it. Soon he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a faded photo of a father with his two sons. It had been a fall day and John had brought the boys over to visit Uncle Bobby. It had been a good day; the boys had been running through the junk yard, hiding behind cars and chasing each other. Even John and Bobby had joined in the fun. Bobby had been out taking photos of a car he had been restoring and had offered to take one of the family.

There was John, a happy smile on his face, holding a 5 year old Sammy. Sam had been tired at that point and reluctant about having to sit still for the picture. Dean had been 9 and was sitting happily next to his father, eager to do whatever what was asked of him.

"What happened, John?" Bobby asked the picture sadly. "Why the hell did you have to lead your boys into this life?"

Bobby closed his eyes and let the picture drop back down on the desk. Those days were gone, leaving only grief and turmoil. He could remember when it all began unraveling, when it started becoming out of control…

***

_November 4, 1997..._

Bobby sped down the back roads, frantic. His heart thundered in his chest as his mind replayed over and over the conversation he had just had on the phone…

_"I can't take it anymore, Bobby,"_ A drunken John Winchester had slurred into the receiver. _"I'm a failure...a god damn failure...the boys... better off without me... tell 'em I... I love 'em, Bobby..."_

Bobby had yelled at him to quit talking like that and tell him where he was. Thank God he did. Jeffrey's Bar down on the old River Road. A dive that would be the perfect place for John to get trashed without attracting too much attention and disappear into the night to carry out his plan.

"Stupid god damn idgit!" Bobby yelled into the empty space of the car.

It wasn't unusual for John to get depressed this time of the year. He had known John for a long time and every year was the same. But this year… Christ, this year had been worse. Dead ends. False leads. Bad hunts. Sam hitting that age where he was also brooding over some teenage-angst thing… it had finally gotten to John.

Suddenly, Bobby spotted the black Impala pulled off the side of the road and John leaning up against the rear driver's side. Bobby's headlights glinted off the silver of the revolver in John's hands.

"Shit!" Bobby swore when he saw it.

He quickly parked and got out. John didn't even look up when Bobby shut the door. Bobby took a deep breath and began slowly walking towards him.

"John? John, what the hell are you doing?" Bobby asked carefully, slowly edging towards him.

"I've failed, Bobby," An obviously drunken John replied. "I've failed Mary… failed my sons… it's been 14 god damn years… what the hell do I have to show for it?"

"Come on, John. Don't be talking like that! You know those boys of yours worship the ground you walk on! And you've raised two good boys there."

John laughed bitterly. "I didn't do a thing, Bobby… I've barely been there… I let my own son raise his brother… I was too god damn busy to be there… I missed everything… and all for what?"

"Those boys understand, John. They know why you do the work you do. Think about the lives you've saved!"

"But I couldn't save Mary…"

"I couldn't save Sarah either, John. I know how much that hurts and I hate myself every day for it. But that's why we do this, John. That's why we live this life! And you have even more to live for! Dean and Sam need you!"

Bobby had managed to get within a couple feet of John. John closed his eyes and shook his head, slowly raising the gun to his temple.

"The hell with it, Bobby. Dean will take care of Sam, just like he's always done. They'll be better off without me… I'll just end all this tonight… I'll just go be with Mary…"

Before John could pull the trigger Bobby leaped forward and pushed the gun out of the way, causing it to fire harmlessly into a nearby tree. The two men fell to the ground and a scuffle ensued over the gun. Any other night John Winchester would have been able to give Bobby a run for his money. His Marine training had taught him how to combat anyone without having to think twice about it. But he had been drinking all day and his normally quick reflexes were dulled to almost nothing, allowing Bobby to easily wrestle the gun from his grasp.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Bobby yelled furiously as he got back on his feet. "You honestly want to make those poor boys orphans? Christ Almighty, John, those boys need you! What the hell do you think Mary would say if she were here and saw you like this? Quit being an ass and start thinking about them for a change and not yourself!"

John began sobbing on the ground. He made no attempts to get back up.

"God, Bobby… God… I just want her back!" John sobbed desperately. "I miss my wife! I miss the life we had! It… it was never meant to be like this! I never meant for anything like this to happen! I've ruined my boys, Bobby! I've ruined their lives! What the hell kind of fucked up life have I given them? What the hell kind of father am I?"

Bobby stood silently, knowing all too well the pain of losing the one you were meant to share the rest of your life with and losing the life you had dreamed of together for so long. He also knew that he couldn't leave John this way. He knew that eventually he would sober up and feel like an ass for carrying on the way he did. But what about when it happened all over again next year. And the year after that?

"Come on, John," Bobby said gruffly, helping John to his feet. "There's someone I want you to meet."

***

Bobby sighed at the memory, his eyes never leaving the picture. The boys had never found out about that night. He recalled talking to John about it later, saying Dean had only complained about how late he had come to finally get them as he hated the school they were going to.

Amazingly, Dr. Morgan's treatments with John had been somewhat successful. John had continued to go back, especially around that time of year. Bobby had never heard about John making anymore suicide attempts after that night. Not until he had actually gone ahead and made the deal with the demon, sealing his fate.

Bobby picked the picture back up and returned it to the drawer. He decided that it was time to turn in for the night.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

OK. Sorry I haven't updated in awhile, but I really had to do some thinking about what I wanted to do about this last episode that aired. The latest plot was just too good to ignore and, well, Dean at least already in therapy! So I'm taking some writing liberties and working the latest episode into my story, but making some modifications so it fits. Don't worry! I'm keeping the main concept, but just having Dean learn the truth a different way. I also am using some of the quotes from the episode, because, well, they're just that freaking good! : ) Hope you enjoy!

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Dean staggered into his room, exhausted. The day's events had drained every last bit of energy he had and all he wanted to do was sleep. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to or even if his sleep was going to be restful, but he didn't care. He didn't want to think about therapy or Sam or anything else. He just wanted to sleep.

He stripped down to his t-shirt and underwear and fell into the bed. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow…

***

_He was lying on the floor, too weak to move. Alistair stood over him, an evil smile on his lips._

_"Dean Winchester... my star pupil! I have missed you, boy. You don't know the fun you've been missing since you've been gone..."_

_"Shut up," Dean spat back weakly._

_Alistair laughed._

_"Come on, Dean! Is that the best you've got? I think you've gone a little... soft... since you left us."_

_"Just go away. You're not real! I know this isn't real!"_

_Alistair gave him a look of mocked surprise._

_"Not real? Why, Dean, I am hurt! You know I'm always with you. You know how __**real**__ Hell is. You know you're never going to be free of me. Not after what you've done."_

_Dean covered his ears and shook his head. "Go away!"_

_Alistair crouched down next to him and pulled his hands away from his head. Dean didn't have the strength to fight him._

_"Look at you, Dean! The great Dean Winchester! Wonder what Daddy would say if he saw you now?"_

_Dean felt the tears sting his eyes._

_"This isn't real!"_

_Alistair smiled and stood back up._

_"Your daddy put up one hell of a fight!" He began circling Dean slowly, like a vulture waiting to feed on its prey. "100 years, Dean! I sliced your daddy every day for 100 years... and do you know what happened?"_

_Dean refused to acknowledge, refused to look up._

_"Nothing! That son of a bitch never... caved... in!" He kicked Dean in the ribs to demonstrate his annoyance, causing Dean to gasp in pain. "100 years! 100... fucking... __**years**__!"_

_Alistair stopped in front of Dean and smiled._

_"But then... __**you**__ came to play. Oooh, Dean. What a day that was! At first I was sure you were going to be just like your daddy. All stoic and unyielding to the agony I could inflict on you day after day after day."_

_At this he crouched back down in front of Dean and grabbed his face with one hand, forcing his head to look up at him._

_"But you surprised me, Dean! It only took 30 years to break you. And I broke you. Made you cry like a little bitch. And then a whole new world opened up for everyone! You got the ball rolling on a brand new world! Not much of a hero, huh, Dean? Not like your daddy!"_

_Dean felt his heart thunder in his chest as he stared into Alistair's cold, dark eyes. A sick feeling began to turn his stomach._

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"Remember that nice little deal I offered you? Well, I made that same sweet deal to your daddy as well. That was the plan originally. Let your daddy start it all! But he just didn't want to follow the plan. But you... oh, Dean! You finally took up my offer and sliced into that bitch. And that was it. The first seal broken."_

_No..._

_"And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell..."*_

_No..._

"_As he breaks, so shall it break."*_

_NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

***

Dean bolted upright in the bed, soaked in a cold sweat and trembling. He gasped for air and thought his heart was going to explode out of his chest. The dream not leaving him.

"No," he whimpered, shaking his he desperately. "Oh God, no."

It all made sense. All of it. Why the demons had been so eager to bring Dean to Hell. Why he didn't get the same deal as everyone else.

Dean Winchester had broken the first seal.

Dean brought his knees up under his chin and wrapped his arms around himself. Sobs shook his body as he rocked back and forth in the bed.

"What have I done? Oh, God, what have I done?" He sobbed into the dark.

It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. It was too awful. To unimaginable to be true. Dean desperately wanted to forget the dream. Forget the words Alistair had said.

But he couldn't.

Suddenly, Dean could feel a presence in the room with him. He looked over and through the haze of his tears he could see the familiar form of Castiel sitting silently in the chair next to the bed. The moonlight that was shining through the window lit up the vessel's form.

"What do you want?" Dean asked bitterly, not wanting to see the angel right now.

Castiel didn't turn to look at him, only staring at the wall across the room.

"What was your dream, Dean?" Castiel asked quietly.

Dean felt the pain well up inside of him. He drew in a few ragged breaths before he could bring himself to speak.

"The first seal…" Dean said in a low voice. "Was it… did I… did I break it?"

He saw Castiel close his eyes and lower his head silently. The bitter truth was spoken in his silence. Dean closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands.

"Oh my god," he whimpered into his hands. "Why? Why? Why did you have to bring me back here? Why did you bring me back here? Why, you son of a bitch?! Why didn't you just leave me in the pit where I belonged? _Why?_"

"We were sent to save you, Dean," Castiel replied in his low, calm voice, not reacting to Dean's harsh words. "We tried to reach you… but we were too late."

"You should have left me! Why that fuck didn't you just leave me?"

"You broke the first seal. You are the only one who can stop the Apocalypse now from happening. You have to fight."

Dean looked at him incredulously.

"Fight? Cas, I have nothing left to fight with. I can't fight anymore."

The anguish that had filled Dean just a few moments ago was quickly replaced with grief.

"I'm so tired, Cas. I've tried… I've tried so hard… but I've failed. I failed Dad. Sam. The whole fucking world. I'm not a hero. I'm the one who brought on the damn Apocalypse. So find someone else, Cas."

"I know our fate rests with you."*

"Then you guys are screwed. I can't do it, Cas… it's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not a hero… I'm not strong enough. Well… I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be."*

Dean turned his head to face the window and closed his eyes.

"Find someone else. It's not me."*

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*_Marks direct quotes from the episode_


	26. Chapter 26

So, this chapter is my attempt to use some of the knowledge I've picked up when I've worked over on the mental health unit! I find the whole thing incredibly fascinating and I love applying what I've learned to Dean and develop his psychological profile! Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 26

Dr. Morgan sat wearily at his desk, looking through his paperwork on Dean in concern. It had now been three days since the group session with Bobby and Sam and it was apparent that Dean had become worse rather than better. He had become increasingly withdrawn, not eating, not participating in sessions anymore. He wouldn't talk about what was wrong, but he had been able to glean some information from Castiel. He now knew about the first seal and how it was broken. And he now knew what was behind Dean's depression. Dean had been struggling to cope with the fact that he had tortured souls in Hell, but there had begun to be glimmers of hope that he would be able to live with that fact. But now this. This revelation had ripped opened the old wounds that had just barely stopped bleeding and had only added to them. It was too much. Dean was too overwhelmed with it all. He couldn't carry the burden anymore.

The doctor was at a complete loss as to what to do now. Dean was refusing to talk to Bobby and Sam anymore, despite numerous attempts on both their parts. He barely ate. Barely spoke. All he would do was come out of his room for a few minutes at a time, use the bathroom, sit miserably at the table and push his food around his plate, and then return to his room.

Dr. Morgan pulled out a piece of paper and began writing his notes.

***

_Winchester, Dean_

_Axis I: Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, Adjustment Disorder_

_Axis II: None at present_

_Axis III: Alcoholism, Death with Divine Regeneration_

_Axis IV: Loss of mother at age 4, lack of stability in home life growing up, father not always present, had to raise younger brother, is a Hunter by trade, has been hunted by demons since childhood, has experienced death, spent the equivalent of 40 years in Hell, tortured souls for 10 of those years, recently learned of role in Apocalypse _

_Axis V: 28 _

_Dean was starting to make progress with his therapy during his first few sessions. He was actively participating and willing to make an attempt at the activities I suggested to him. He was journaling and was surprising open in his entries about his thoughts and feelings._

_Unfortunately, there have been new developments in his condition that has impeded his progress. Apparently during his time in Hell he was not only tortured, but became a torturer as well. This is certainly not an uncommon situation for any victim of abuse who is given the opportunity to escape the abuse and then channel their feelings of fear and anger into the abuse of someone weaker. As always the case when treating Hunters, however, things have become more complicated. By Dean taking these actions it has apparently broken an ancient seal which has lead to the beginning of the Apocalypse. Dean recently has learned this information and is understandably distraught. All progress that has been made, however, has been loss. Dean is no longer participating in any therapy sessions and has since refused to attend. His appetite is noticeably decreased as is his activity level. He has become increasingly withdrawn and has refused contact with the only two people he views as family, his brother, Sam Winchester, and close friend, Robert Singer. He affect is depressed. He rarely talks and when he does it is simply "yes" and "no" answers. I have heard him in his room crying although he refuses to discuss it when asked. He is no longer speaking to the angel, Castiel._

_Under different circumstances I would recommend placement in a psychiatric facility where there are more resources and medications to deal with his condition. Unfortunately, this is not a viable option for Dean. His condition has been brought on by situations that would be considered fantastical by conventional psychiatry and they would consider his memories to be mere hallucinations brought on by substance abuse. It is for that reason Dean remains in my care. As he has had suicidal ideations in the past I have placed back on suicide precautions and removed all items that could be used to harm himself. Castiel has graciously agreed to monitor Dean 24 hours as I am not able to myself. All that can be done for Dean at the present is to continue to monitor his condition and offer support and medications that would help. The hope is that eventually Dean will reach out for help._

_The gravity of Dean's situation is not lost on me and has grave implications for not only himself, but all of mankind. My only concern, however, if for this young man who must cope with far more than any man his age should have to. I only pray that he has the strength to ask for help._

***

He dropped the pen on his desk and leaned back in his chair. He wearily rubbed his eyes and let out the sigh that had been building up in him.

This entire situation was completely out of his league and he knew it. He had been in this field for over 35 years and had encountered what he had thought had been everything imaginable. He knew he was no slouch at this.

But then he had never dealt with a situation like Dean's. A young man who from a young age had been raised to combat the very nightmares that plague the night, any chance of a normal life was snatched away the night his mother died. Forced to grow up before his time and raise his younger brother. When he got older he chose to continue the only life he had ever known, selflessly saving the lives of complete strangers.

And what was his repayment?

He had lost countless numbers of friends. Lost his father. And then, finally, lost the only family he had left, his brother. Backing him into a corner. Making him believe he had no other option than to sacrifice himself for his brother. Allowing himself to be sent to Hell. Be tortured. Torture others, which broke the seal. And then was raised from the dead for the simple reason that he was the only one who could save the world from the Apocalypse.

Christ, anyone would be fucked up after that.

He was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by the phone ringing. He answered it, suspecting it was probably Sam, trying to contact Dean again.

He was wrong.

"Mother! How are you? ... I'm… I'm fine, Mother… I really am… just tired… I've taken on a case… yes, I know I said I was retiring… this case was important though… it's not going as well as I had hoped… it's far more complicated than I had expected… yes, he's like my previous clients… really?" Dr. Morgan looked at the calendar on his desk. "I'm sorry, I had lost track of the days… are you sure you still want to visit?... My patient is staying with me and he's not doing very well… No, Mother, he's not dangerous… not to other people… well, I guess if you're sure… alright, well then I guess I'll see you tomorrow then… I love you too, Mother… Good bye."

He hung up the phone and shook his head. This was going to be an interesting situation…


	27. Chapter 27

I finally had some time to update! Now, hopefully this isn't too "religious" for you guys, although I think if you've managed to watch the show for this long and can handle demons and angels then this shouldn't kill ya! ; )

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Chapter 27

Dean groggily opened his eyes and groaned. Another day. Another day of feeling like shit. Another day of feeling miserable and full of self-loathing. Before he could have just self-medicated with a few drinks from his flask. No more of that though. He wanted to roll back over and just bury his head under the pillow, but his bladder was nagging him to hurry up and get to the bathroom. Reluctantly, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He looked over and saw Castiel quietly sitting in his chair, watching him.

"Dean," Castiel said with a nod.

Dean gave him a quick nod back, not quite fully awake yet and not wanting to really talk. Castiel had been there, practically glued to his hip ever since their conversation. Dean hated it, but knew after that gun incident that the doctor wasn't about to take any more chances. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom. Castiel silently followed behind him. He had managed the first day to convince Castiel that he didn't need to stand directly behind him while he went to the bathroom and had compromised on leaving the door slightly ajar. Not that it was much better, but at least he didn't have to deal with having an angel stare at him while he tried to take a piss.

As he finished in the bathroom and made his way out Dean heard someone in the kitchen area. He had grown accustomed to the regular noises of the house and quickly realized that this was something new. He shot a glance at Castiel.

"Is someone else here?" He asked, confused.

Castiel nodded. "Dr. Morgan's mother is visiting for a few days."

"Great," Dean muttered. He wondered if it would be possible to avoid her long enough to just get something to drink. His mouth felt like sandpaper and all he wanted was to get rid of the taste. With a sigh he shuffled down the hallway to the kitchen.

In front of the stove stood a petite old woman, appearing to be in her 80's. Her grey hair was pulled back in a neat bun and she wore an apron over her blouse and slacks. She was cooking something and humming along to the song on the radio that she had playing next to her on the counter. She glanced over and saw Dean standing hesitantly in the doorway.

"Good morning!" She said happily. "You must be Dean."

"Uh… yeah. Hi." Dean said, moistening his lips nervously with his dry tongue. "I… uh… sorry to bother you… I was just getting a drink and…"

"I'm Doris. It's so nice to meet you," Doris said, interrupting him. "Breakfast is almost ready so why don't you go get cleaned up and the three of us will sit down and eat!"

Dean stared at her, taken aback. "Uh… us and the doc?"

"Oh, no. Leo went into town for a few hours. He had some errands to run. I told him not to worry about a thing. That I would make sure you would get a nice hot breakfast and would be all cleaned up and ready to go when he got back! I meant us and your friend there. He needs to eat too!"

Dean looked over at Castiel who had a confused look on his face. Dean had to admit that as crappy as he felt, it still was pretty funny to see the puzzled look on the angel's face.

"I… I don't need to eat, ma'am," Castiel said hesitantly.

Doris _tsked_ and shook her head disapprovingly.

"Nonsense! Just because you're an angel doesn't mean you don't need a good meal like the rest of us! I know from the Bible that angels eat just fine so you can too! Now, stop dawdling, Dean, and go get washed up! I won't have you looking like that at the table!"

Dean was too amazed to try to argue with the woman. She looked like she barely reached five feet high, yet he could tell she wasn't someone you argued with. He looked at Castiel and then back at her. He thought about saying something but decided against it. He shrugged and went back to the bathroom.

When he looked in the bathroom mirror he could see why she hadn't been too pleased. He hadn't shaved in a week or really washed more than splashing some water on his face. He used the razor Castiel brought for him and got rid of the week's worth of growth on his face. He then took a quick shower and couldn't help but notice how he felt just a little better by doing those things.

He went back to the kitchen dressed in the clean clothes he was allowed to have and saw that Doris had already set the table for them and had made quite the spread. French toast with maple syrup, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, regular toast, hash browns, and milk and orange juice to drink. Dean couldn't help but stare in amazement.

"Wow. That's… a lot of food!"

She nodded as they sat down. "Yes, I wasn't sure what you liked so I thought this would cover everything. Now then, let's say grace and we can start."

She held one hand out towards Dean and the other to Castiel. Castiel took her hand in one of his and held the other one out to Dean. Dean looked at them both like they were insane.

"We're… saying grace?" Dean asked, confused.

Doris nodded calmly. "Why yes. I thank the Lord before every meal. You should do the same, you know."

"Right…" He hesitantly took her hand and then Castiel's with his other.

_This is freaking weird_, He thought to himself.

Once she saw they had bowed their heads she did the same and began to speak.

"_Lord_," She began, "_Thank you for this glorious day You have made! Thank you for letting me share this meal with Dean, a servant chosen by you, and Castiel, a blessed angel that you have assigned to Dean's care. Thank you for this breakfast we are about to eat and bless it to our bodies. In Jesus' name, Amen._"

_Lord, what the Hell is going on? I think I just woke up in the damn Twilight Zone!_ Dean thought to himself.

She looked back at them and smiled. She than began passing the food out to everyone.

"There's plenty here so don't be shy," she said cheerfully.

"Looks great," Dean said weakly with a polite smile.

Castiel nodded, looking slightly unsure of what he should be doing. He watched Dean for a moment as he picked up his fork and took a bite of food. Castiel then attempted to copy his actions with some success, but did drip syrup on the table in the process.

"So… uh… so how do you know all about me and Cas?" Dean asked casually once everyone had started eating.

Doris chuckled. "Oh, Leo filled me in. He thought I should know that there was going to be a celestial being in the house! And he told me a little bit about why you're here, but not everything of course. Patient privacy and all. But it's still such a treat to have you both here! I don't get much company at my house. Everyone's all grown up and moved away. So I come stay with Leo every few months and visit." She paused to take a sip of coffee. "So, Dean, tell me about yourself. Leo says you're a Hunter."

"Uh, yeah." He was still amazed at how much this woman knew, not to mention how unsurprised she was by all of it. "Me and my brother, Sam."

"Mmhmm. And your parents?"

"They're both gone. Mom died when I was four. Dad a few years ago."

Doris frowned sadly. "Oh, dear, I'm so sorry."

Dean shrugged. "It's OK. Sam and I manage fine."

"Do you have any girlfriends?"

What the hell? Dean glanced over at Castiel, wondering if maybe he could somehow save him from the Twenty Questions session he was having to endure. Castiel, however, was intently studying his ham, trying to figure out how to eat it.

"Nope," Dean said with a weak chuckle. "No girlfriends. We kind of travel a little too much for that. Not the most… stable lifestyle."

Doris shook her head sadly. "Such a shame. A nice young man like you should have a wife and children to come home to."

Dean really wasn't comfortable with where this conversation was going so he decided to try to change course.

"So… yeah… so all this God and angel stuff doesn't bother you?"

She looked at him surprised. "Is it supposed to?"

He gave her a surprised look back. "Uh… yeah?"

"Young man, I have been going to church every day my entire life! Not to mention I've met plenty of the Hunters my son has treated over the years and heard their stories. So why would angels and meeting a chosen instrument of the Lord come as a surprise?"

Dean stared at her and opened and closed his mouth a few times. He glanced back over at Castiel who was now looking back at him, intently waiting for his answer. Dean nervously moistened his lips and smiled.

"I… uh… I guess because angels haven't been around for a few thousand years?"

Doris sighed impatiently. "And you don't believe in miracles?"

_OK, this is not where I wanted to go with this_, Dean thought desperately.

"I… I guess I just haven't had much experience with miracles," Dean replied weakly.

Now Castiel looked at him quizzically.

"Dean, I raised you from Hell and resurrected your body. I believe by human standards that is considered one of the most divine miracles that can be."

_Thanks a lot, Cas_, Dean thought in annoyance.

"Yeah, well, the only miracles I've seen always come with a price tag," Dean replied somewhat sharply.

The words obviously hit their mark by the look that came over Castiel's face. His eyes dropped for a moment before returning to look intently at Dean.

"The Lord has important plans for you, Dean. You know that."

"Yeah. Stopping the end of the world. Great. Because after everything that's happened I really feel up to that."

Doris frowned and arched an eyebrow at him.

"Dean, just because you're tired and upset doesn't give you an excuse to just give up."

Dean looked at her and it took every ounce of self control not to jump up and start screaming at her.

"Ma'am," He said softly. "You have no idea what I've been through."

"Well of course I don't know. But you also don't know what ever one else has been through either. I mean, take your angel here." She gestured towards Castiel while taking another sip of coffee. "He had to leave the comforts and safety of Heaven to apparently save you from Hell and then bring you back to life. Which I don't believe is any small thing, even for an angel of the Lord! He then has to help you, even though it is quite apparent you don't seem to want anything to do with him."

"I never said-"

"And then after what happened with that other angel… after the things he did and now poor Castiel has to decide who can trust. I think he has problems of his own!"

That statement suddenly yanked Dean out of his world of self-pity and loathing. He was suddenly more aware than he had been in days and he looked over at Castiel. Castiel was no longer looking at Dean, but had his head bowed down and eyes closed, looking obviously upset. Dean felt his stomach sink.

"Cas? What's she talking about?" Dean asked with genuine concern.

"I didn't want to… disturb you with the details. You have been distressed enough already," Castiel said slowly.

"Yeah, well, I'm going to be more pissed off if you don't tell me what the heck happened! Who's she talking about? Uriel? Is that why he hasn't been with you lately?"

He saw Castiel swallow hard before speaking.

"Uriel… chose a different path. He… turned. Betrayed our Father… myself… He was attempting to aid in breaking more seals…"

"That son of a bitch!" Dean slammed his fist on the table.

"Language, Dean" Doris chided lightly.

Castiel sighed. "His hatred of humans appeared to… sway his loyalties. He was… dispatched… before he could do any further damage."

Dean sat silently in his seat, stunned.

"Wow," He finally said.

"I… I'm sorry, Cas. I mean… he was a d-… I mean," He shot an apologetic glance at Doris. "Jerk. I know he hated my guts. But… I know he was your friend…"

"And brother."

That completely silenced Dean. The thought of Sam ever betraying him, really betraying him. Not because of demon possession or a stupid spell, but actually making the choice to turn against him and then having to kill him… Dean honestly didn't think he could live with himself.

"Well, I think you both have some things you should talk about." Doris stood up and began picking up the empty plates. "I want you to help me clean up the table and then you should go outside for some fresh air and a chat."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

After Dean had helped Doris clean up he was sent outside with Castiel while Doris stayed inside to do some housework. It was a very nice day out, warm and sunny without a cloud in the sky. The man and angel walked silently down the path together that led to the lake.

Dean couldn't help but feel slightly awkward at the current situation. Sure, he had talked to Castiel plenty of times. But it was always at Castiel's choosing and it always had something to do with the Apocalypse and the end of the world. They never actually just… talked though. Not about the regular mundane things that happened to them every day. And the more Dean thought about it the more he realized that he really didn't know a lot about Castiel other than he was an angel and soldier for God and was sent to help him stop the Apocalypse. Oh yeah, and that he pulled him out of Hell.

Dean nervously moistened his lips and cleared his throat.

"So… um… nice day."

Castiel nodded slowly. "Yes. It is."

The awkward silence returned. They reached the dock that jutted out into the lake. Dean decided he really couldn't take the silence anymore. He took a deep breath.

"Alright. So what the hell happened with Uriel exactly? And when exactly were you planning on telling me about it?" Dean asked, stopping in front of Castiel and folding his arms across his chest.

Castiel stopped and looked at him in surprise. "I told you. Uriel betrayed-"

"No no no. I don't want the sugar-coated version you told in front of Granny back there. I want to know a few more details, such as how the hell you found out."

Castiel sighed and closed his eyes. Dean could see the obvious distress in Castiel's form.

"There were… murders. Someone was murdering my brethren and we were trying to figure out who it was."

Dean frowned. "You can kill an angel?"

Castiel nodded. "With the right weapons, yes."

"And… it was Uriel?"

Castiel nodded again, slowly. "It was an attempt to break another seal. He also was attempting to build up his own army of angels that wished to turn against our Father. Those who said no… he murdered."

"How did you find out?"

"I… I thought back to some situations that had occurred… things didn't appear right with him. So I confronted him…"

"How did he take that? No well apparently."

"He… he asked me to join him."

Dean felt his stomach lurch and he looked at Castiel in shock. "Seriously?"

Castiel nodded.

"Um… I thought you said he killed anyone who said no…"

"I did say no. And he… he did attack me…"

"So, you… you killed him."

Castiel shook his head, not meeting Dean's gaze. "No. I…"

Castiel's voice trailed off.

"You didn't kill him? But I thought you said…"

"I… I wasn't the one who killed him. I… we fought. But I was… distracted. I was overwhelmed by what he had done… so I had… given up…"

Dean could not believe what he had just heard.

"Whoa whoa whoa! What do you mean you gave up? You mean you were going to let him kill you?"

"I wasn't strong enough to overcome him. So I said I would rather die than betray my Father."

"So what the hell happened?"

Castiel sighed reluctantly. "Right before he could kill me he was killed… by Anna."

Dean's eyes widened in shock. "Anna? Anna is back?"

Castiel looked obviously uncomfortable about discussing the situation. "Yes."

"And she actually killed Uriel?"

"Yes."

"Wow," Was all Dean could say.

They were both silent for a moment, both looking out at the lake.

Finally Dean spoke.

"So… that means your cool now with her, right? I mean, she did save you."

"It's not that simple. She is still considered a renegade for what she did. She still is wanted to be brought in."

Dean stared at him incredulously. "Dude, seriously? I mean, come on! She killed an angel who was trying to help along the Apocalypse and saved you! What the hell more does she need to do?"

"It's much more complicated than that. There are rules…"

"Yeah, well, your rules suck."

Dean turned and walked over to his spot next to his tree. He sat down and looked back up at Castiel.

"So then, if you have all those rules, why didn't you take care of her then?"

Castiel visibly flinched again and Dean could tell that he was treading on a very touchy subject. The angel stood quietly for a moment and Dean was beginning to wonder if maybe he had overstepped himself. Finally, Castiel sighed.

"My superiors asked me the same question," He finally answered softly.

"What did you tell them?"

"That I was too weak to do anything to stop her. Which led to another discussion?"

Dean shifted nervously. This wasn't quite what he had expected to be talking about with Castiel when they came out there. The angel looked visibly distressed and Dean couldn't help but feel like an ass for not noticing it sooner. He had been too busy worrying about his own problems to notice.

"So what was the discussion?"

"They have noticed a change in me. An… undesirable change. I am weaker than I should be. My… doubts and concerns for your well-being seem to have impaired my abilities as well as my judgment."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, so you're a little preoccupied. I mean… I know I haven't exactly been the easiest guy to work with lately."

Castiel shook his head. "It's not acceptable according to me superiors. They feel I have gotten too close to you. That I am no longer… fit for my duties."

Dean felt his stomach lurch. There was something in Castiel's voice that began to fill him with a sense of dread.

"So what does that mean?"

Castiel slowly looked back up at Dean, his blue eyes filled with pain.

"After you are well and resume your duties I… I will be removed as your charge. You will be assigned another angel."

The news was like a sharp blow. Dean froze and felt him stomach drop. Yes, of course he had thought of the angel as a pain in the ass sometimes and a little creepy when he would just sit and stare at him for hours at a time. And, sure, Castiel could be a dick. A lot.

But he was also the only person that actually showed any faith in Dean since all of this started. Sam obviously didn't think he was strong enough to fight. Bobby didn't really either. And Dr. Morgan seemed to lose faith in him as well. But Castiel never did. He never stopped telling Dean that he was going to be the one who would put an end to the Apocalypse.

And Castiel had saved him, more than once. He had been the one to rescue him from Hell. And then had been there to protect him from himself at the bridge. His ever calm presence, although almost frustrating at the time, was also comforting as well.

And Dean had treated him like shit. A lot. Had said some pretty awful things to him that any other person would have said, fuck you, and walk away.

But Castiel had never left. He stayed with him.

"They can't do that," Dean whispered, not trusting his voice to speak louder.

"The decision has been made…"

"Fuck their decision!" Dean desperately rose to his feet, feeling a sense of panic rising in him. "They can't take you away! They can't do that! You didn't do anything wrong!"

"Dean, I cannot protect you like this…"

"You've already protected me! Christ, Cas! You fucking saved me from _Hell_! It's not like just anyone can do that! And then… then on the bridge… you… you…" Dean's voice cracked and tears began filling his eyes.

"Dean…"

"Shut up! No!" Dean began trembling uncontrollably and thought he was going to be sick. He covered his face with his hands, not knowing what else to do.

Castiel couldn't leave him. He just couldn't.

Castiel looked helplessly at him, not sure how to respond to Dean's reaction. He took a step towards him.

"Dean, you won't be alone. You will still have divine protection…"

Dean looked back up at him, unable to stop the tears. This seemed to bring out every old hurt that had never truly resolved. Every person who had left him. Castiel was supposed to be the one who would actually stay.

"I don't want some other fucking angel! You just told me Uriel murdered all the ones who didn't want to help him end the world so how the fuck am I supposed to trust anyone!?"

Castiel looked startled for a moment.

"He… he couldn't have reached everyone…"

"But you don't know that, do you? And now I'm going to be stuck with some douche angel that I'll always have to wonder if he wants to gank me or not!"

Castiel stiffened. "I would not let anyone harm you."

"But you're leaving! You won't be there to stop him! You're just going to leave! Just fucking leave me like everyone else does!"

"Dean…"

Dean wasn't even listening to him now. His eyes were clenched shut and he was rocking back and forth on his feet, desperately trying to fight off the panic attack that was occurring. He was beginning to have visions again, this time of events that Alistair had enjoyed tormenting him with. Of the night his mother died. When Sam had left for college. When Cassie had left him. When Dad had left. When Sam had left again. When Sam died in his arms. Sam's tormented face as he watched Dean be ripped apart by the Hellhounds. He could hear the screams from Hell and Alistair's laugh. Dean sunk to the ground, sobbing.

He couldn't control his emotions. There had been a time when he could. Not anymore.

He sat on ground, desperately trying to make it all stop. Suddenly he felt a pair of gentle hands on his shoulders. He slowly looked up and saw Castiel's face hovering near his, his gaze unwavering.

"Dean…"

"I can't take it, Cas… I can't take everyone leaving… I… I just need someone to stay… just one…"

Castiel slowly nodded.

"Then I will stay if that is what you want."

Dean stared at him, hardly daring to believe him.

"But… but you said…"

"I know what I said. I will find a way to change my superiors' minds."

Dean swallowed hard; he slowly was regaining control of himself.

"You… you really want to do that?"

Castiel nodded again. "My duty is to protect you. If I am the only one you feel…safe… with then it is my duty to remain as your protector. I will not abandon you, Dean."

Dean swallowed hard. Castiel was the only one he knew besides Sam and Bobby who really would do anything for him. It was a humbling experience for him.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean whispered.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, embarrassed now about how he had reacted. Castiel said nothing, but calmly watched him. When Dean was ready he stepped back and allowed the man to get to his feet. Dean hesitantly shot a glance at him.

"Hey… uh… Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"I… uh… I just wanted… to… you know… say that I… I do appreciate everything you've done for me… you know… like saving me from Hell and all that."

Castiel cocked his head in confusion at him. Dean sighed.

"I mean… it's just I know I've been kind of a… a dick to you and you don't deserve that… so I just… you know… say thanks… and all that… it really does mean a lot."

Castiel's expression changed to one of surprise which was quickly replaced with the angel's usual calm demeanor.

"Of course, Dean. You… you are welcome."

Dean nodded, deciding he really wanted to change the topic.

"Hey… uh… maybe we should go in and check on Granny. Make sure she's OK."

Castiel nodded. "Yes. Maybe we should."

The two began making their way back to the house.


	29. Chapter 29

I haven't forgotten this story! : ) I have another one that has been nagging me to finish and I got kind of stuck with this one. But the creative juices are flowing again and I'm all done with school! So I should be updating this story much more frequently!

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Chapter 29

Dean and Castiel entered the house, Dean feeling drained, but better. He couldn't help but inwardly cringe at his behavior. He hated out of control he would feel whenever the flashbacks came on. It was even more embarrassing to have someone witness it.

But then he had to admit that he felt a lot better after the conversation he just had with Castiel. It had been downright humiliating to have to admit that the idea of Castiel leaving him was more than he could take. He should be able to handle everything himself. And yet, it was probably the most comforted he had actually felt in a long time when Castiel told him that he would stay.

Finally. Something constant he could hold on to.

After coming inside they could hear Doris talking to someone. They went into the kitchen and saw her talking on the phone.

"Why you haven't settled yourself down with some nice woman is beyond my understanding, Bobby…. There are plenty of women out there who would be happy to be with a man like you… I know one very nice woman I go to church with who would be just _perfect_!" She turned around and saw Dean and Castiel watching her. "Oh! Now hold on a minute, Bobby, he just walked in. Here you go!"

She walked over to Dean and before he could say anything she quickly shoved the phone in his hand.

"It's your friend, Bobby, dear. He wanted to see how you were." She then turned and started walking away. "Oh, and I invited him and your brother over for dinner tonight!"

Dean stared at her with his jaw dropped. He looked over at Castiel for help, but the angel merely shrugged and walked over to the kitchen table to sit down. Dean closed his eyes and sighed before raising the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Dean… Good to hear your voice."

"Yeah… it's… it's good to hear from you too, Bobby."

There was an awkward pause on both ends of the line.

"So… I see Doris is up visiting."

Dean couldn't help but smile at that comment.

"Yeah… yeah she is."

"She's something, ain't she?"

"Yeah she is! She actually got Castiel to eat breakfast with us this morning!"

"He eats?"

"Apparently. I guess he just doesn't really need to."

"Well, wonders never cease."

There was another pause.

"Dean… look, I… I'm glad you're doing better. Really. I was starting to get… well, worried."

Dean swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

"Thanks, Bobby. I'm… I'm OK… it's just… the last few days have been kind of rough…"

"I'll say. Leo said you weren't doing anything and hardly saying two words."

"I… I just don't know what to do…"

Bobby cut him off before he could say anything else.

"I know, Dean. You don't have to explain anything to me. All I care is that you can get back on your feet and back to work. You just do it however you need to."

"Thanks, Bobby."

There was another pause.

"Well," Bobby said, his voice becoming slightly gruff. "Enough of that. Doris invited us over for dinner. Sam and I'll be there around four. He'll be happy to see you. He's missed you, you know."

"I know. I miss him too. I'll be happy to see him too."

"Good. Well, I have to go, but we'll see you later, alright? Bye, Dean."

"Bye, Bobby."

Dean hung up and sighed. Talking to Bobby had been hard. It just reminded him of how screwed up everything had become. Granted, his life before hadn't been before perfect, but at least he had been able to function. Now, though, it seemed like everything took more effort than it had before. Any type of stress made him a quivering wreck. He had never been like that before.

But the conversation had reminded him of one thing; why he had to get better.

He suddenly heard the front door open and Dr. Morgan come in. He was carrying several grocery bags as he made his way back to the kitchen. When he saw Dean a surprised look came over his face. He smiled.

"Well, Dean! It's good to see you up and about!"

Dean grinned. "Yeah, well, your mom told me I had to get cleaned up and moving if I wanted any breakfast."

Dr. Morgan sat the grocery bags on the table and went over to give Doris a hug.

"Ah, yes. That does sound like Mother!"

Doris tsked from where she stood at the stove.

"Well he couldn't sit at the table looking like he did! My goodness, he was starting to look like a caveman!"

Dean couldn't help but laugh at that statement. Dr. Morgan chuckled and patted her on the back.

"Of course not. And I'm sure Dean wouldn't want to look like that, Mother."

"I should think not!" She glanced over at Dean. "Well, now I think it's time for Dean's therapy session. I should have lunch ready by the time you're all done."

Dr. Morgan nodded and looked at Dean.

"I think that is an excellent idea, Mother. Is that alright with you, Dean?"

Dean couldn't help but hesitate a moment. He really didn't want to talk any more out of fear of having another attack. But he also didn't want to disappoint Dr. Morgan any more than he already had. He finally nodded.

"Yeah… yeah that's fine."

He began following the doctor to his office. He gave Castiel a quick glance and the angel simply nodded. Dean felt his stomach twist with anxiety for a moment. He couldn't quite shake the fear of Castiel not being there when he came back out. He reminded himself, though, of Castiel's promise. He had to trust him.

Dr. Morgan and Dean settled into their respective spots once they were in the office. The doctor turned on the tape recorded and then looked carefully at Dean.

"Well, Dean, I'm glad you agreed to attend your sessions again," Dr. Morgan said calmly.

Dean felt his face flush.

"Yeah… sorry… I just… just haven't really wanted to talk that much…"

"So what is different about today?"

Dean thought for a moment. "Well… I wasn't about to tell your mom that I wasn't going… I think she'd get pretty pissed…"

Dr. Morgan chuckled. "Yes, Mother does have that way with her. She worked as a nurse for fifty years so she is quite used to caring for people who need the help. Are you offended by her at all?"

"What? No… no, I don't mind. I know she's just trying to help."

"And what about Castiel? How are you feeling towards him?"

Dean swallowed hard. "I… well… we talked earlier…"

Dr. Morgan nodded, waiting patiently. Dean shifted nervously in his seat.

"He… he said his superiors were pissed at him… they think he's gotten too close to me or something."

"What do you think about that?"

Dean nervously moistened his lips. "I… I don't know…"

"Do you feel he has gotten too close to you?"

Dean thought for a moment before he finally shrugged.

"I… I don't think so… I don't care though… I just… I just want him to… you know… stay."

"Did he say he was going to leave?"

Dean closed his eyes and felt a lump form in his throat. He desperately tried to push down his emotions.

"They… they want him to leave… he said he wouldn't, though."

"Do you want him to leave?"

Dean shook his head emphatically. Dr. Morgan studied Dean's reaction for a moment.

"Does the idea of Castiel leaving upset you, Dean?"

Dean cleared his throat, but couldn't bring himself to speak. He nodded again.

"Why does that bother you, Dean?"

The panic coursed thought Dean at the thought. He could feel himself slowly lose the fight to maintain control.

"I…" His voice was choked with emotion. "I don't want him to leave too… everybody leaves… everyone I give a shit about…"

"Who has left you, Dean?" Dr. Morgan asked gently.

The tears couldn't be held back any longer. They slowly began to fall down Dean's cheeks. He finally decided that he couldn't hide his feelings any longer.

"Mom," he forced out. "Sam when he went to college. Dad when he just up and disappeared. And then he died after we finally found him. And then Sam died. And… and even though he's back… I… I swear I don't even know him any more… he's not the same Sammy… God… I know he's doing things behind my back… I know he's keeping secrets… I know he's running around with that demon bitch… and… I can't do anything about it… I can't stop it… but… Christ… I just want my baby brother back!"

His voice broke and he began to sob. Dr. Morgan said nothing, only reaching over and setting a box of tissues next to him. It was as if someone had just opened the floodgates and Dean felt an overwhelming need to purge himself of everything that had built up inside of him.

"He's just like Dad… he's so fucking stubborn! And… I don't know what to do… he's the only family I have left… and it's my job to look out for him… that's it… and I haven't even been able to do that right… and now they expect me to save the world from the Apocalypse when I can't even keep Sam alive…?" Dean shook his head. "I… just want to do something right for a change… to not be such a fuck up all the time… I mean… I know Dad would be so pissed at me right now… with everything that's happened…"

"Why would he be angry, Dean?" The doctor asked gently.

Dean wiped his face with a tissue and laughed bitterly. "Because… because I haven't been able to do my job! I let that demon get Sammy. I let him get killed. I let myself get mixed up with a deal with a demon. I went to Hell and broke in less than half the time he was there for. And now," He gestured towards the doctor, "I tried to fucking kill myself and I can't even do my job because I'm all fucked up. So, yeah. He'd be pissed."

Dr. Morgan frowned. "Dean, have you ever considered the possibility that your father's expectations for you and the expectations you have for yourself far exceed what is humanly possible for you to achieve?"

Dean looked at the doctor, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, did you give your brother to that demon?"

"What? No."

"Did you kill your brother yourself?"

"No… but…"

"What was your intention when you made the deal with the demon?"

"To save Sam… but…"

"And with everything that has occurred to you, do you really believe anyone could endure it without eventually being overwhelmed?"

Dean paused, uncertain how to respond. The doctor nodded.

"Dean, you are an exceptional young man. You are intelligent and selfless and stronger physically and emotionally than any other man I have ever known. But there every man has their limits. You are a human being. You are capable of only so much. You must understand that you can only do your very best in any given situation. Your father, I can tell you, suffered in a similar manner. He expected a great deal of himself and he struggled greatly when he wasn't always able to meet the standards he set for himself."

He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. Dean felt his emotions swirl inside of him.

"But… I have to do better…" Dean whispered.

"Do you think you haven't done the best you could?"

"But I've failed…"

"People do fail, Dean. You cannot win at everything."

"But people die when I fail," Dean said quietly.

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Yeah, I'm ending this here for now. Mainly cuz I am beat! I promise I won't leave you hanging as long as I have been!


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Dr. Morgan studied Dean carefully. Dean had covered his face with his hands desperately trying to fight down the fear and anxiety he could feel coursing through him. This was sheer torture to open up in this way. To expose every fear, every doubt he had ever had throughout his entire life. Dean Winchester had to be strong. He had to be confident. Everyone depended on him to be that way.

The doctor leaned back in his chair and thought carefully about what he was going to say next.

"Dean," He said gently, "I want to talk about to about Sam."

Dean looked up, slightly confused.

"What about him?" Dean asked hoarsely.

"You say you feel like you were responsible for Sam's death. I want you to discuss with me the events that led up to his passing."

Dean swallowed hard. Already his emotions felt raw and exposed. His stomach was knotted and he didn't know how much more he could handle.

"I… I don't know…"

"What happened that day? How did the demon get Sam?"

Dean sighed and closed his eyes. The memories of that day were as fresh and vivid as if they had just happened last week.

"It…" He shook his head as if it would help shake the memories in order. "It was crappy that night… raining… we were hungry… stopped at this freaking tiny restaurant… some dive out in the middle of nowhere… I sent Sam in to get us some food and I waited out in the car…"

He could feel his heart pound harder, the memories flooding back to him.

"I saw him go in… Christ… I should have gone in too… maybe… maybe I could have stopped it… but it… it happened so fast… I was listening to the radio and then… then it just died… and I had been watching him… I could see him right through the damn window… I looked down for maybe 5 seconds… that was it… and when I looked back up… he was… just _gone_."

Dean's voice choked with emotion. He could feel the emotions running through him that he had felt that night, the fear, the confusion.

"I couldn't see anyone… and when I went in… they… they were all dead… everyone in there… the people there eating… the cooks… the waitresses… all of them… and he was just gone… I looked everywhere… and then I found the sulfur… and I knew…" He wiped the tears from his eyes before continuing. "I knew they took him… and I didn't know where…

"I called Bobby… I called our friend Ash… anyone I could think of to help… Bobby had nothing... and Ash… he said he had something… something big…"

Dean shook his head again sadly.

"So many people died that day… so many people who didn't have a clue what the fuck was going on… all because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time…"

Dr. Morgan sat quietly, listening to Dean intently.

"Then… I dunno… it was the weirdest fucking thing that has ever happened to me… I had… a vision… saw Sam… figured out where he was… I dunno how it happened… and it's never happened again…"

He shook his head again. "Thank God Bobby knew what it all meant… if he hadn't… if we had never found him…"

Dean stopped speaking for a moment. He covered his face with his hand as the final moments of that horrible night replayed in his mind.

"That bastard had taken him to this abandoned town… him and a bunch of other people with powers… he… he had to fight the others… the demon wanted one of them to lead his army… so Sam had to fight to stay alive… but… but this one guy…"

He couldn't stop the tears that now flowed freely down his face.

"We were so close… when we saw him… and we almost got to him… he was right _there_…" He balled his hands up into clenched fists. "That son of a bitch came up behind him… stabbed him before Bobby and I could do anything… it… it happened so fast… and… Sammy just… collapsed… and I caught him… tried to tell him it was going to be OK… that I'd fix it… but…"

His voice trailed off. The memories of the sheer anguish he had felt that night cut through him.

"He died… he died right in my arms… and I couldn't save him… I couldn't fix him…"

Dean stopped talking; the pain from the memories was too severe. He could still feel the wet, sticky blood from Sam's wound on his hand. He could see in his mind Sam's eyes become unfocused and finally fade before him. So many things had flown through his mind at that moment while he had held Sam in his arms. He remembered caring Sam's tiny body out of the burning house… He remembered Sam when he was little, following him everywhere, asking millions of questions… He remembered when Sam had become a sullen, lanky teenager, not comfortable in his own skin... He remembered the night Sam had left for college, afraid, but determined... He remembered the night he had seen Sam again for the first time after four years…

And then… in mere seconds… his brother was gone…

Dr. Morgan quietly stood up and came over to sit next to Dean on the couch. He gently put his arm around the young man and patted him on the back.

"You did everything you could, Dean," The doctor said softly. "You made every possible effort you could to save him."

Dean shook his head. "I should have stayed with him… I should never have let him go in that place alone…"

"You had no way of knowing what was going to happen that night, Dean. You did nothing wrong. Of course if you had known you would have done everything in your power to stop it from happening. But you didn't know. Bobby didn't know. Sam didn't even know. It was a tragic event, but not your fault."

Dean swallowed hard and looked up at the doctor.

"You know," he said softly, "What the worst part of it was… I… I never got to say good bye… my last few seconds with him… I never told him how much I… I loved him… it… it was just like with Dad… he just died before I could say anything…"

"But Sam is alive now… you made the deal to bring him back."

Dean nodded emphatically. "I had to… I had to do it… he's my brother… he's all I have left… I mean… what would have been the point, you know? Sam was supposed to have the normal life… he did everything right… he wasn't supposed to die in some god-forsaken ghost town because of some demon war! But me… I should have already been dead… I should have died dozens of times… I deserved it. But not Sammy."

Dean wiped his eyes and shook his head miserably. "And look at where we are now. I died and couldn't even stay dead. And Sam… he's never going to get to be normal… I don't even think he wants it any more… it… it got all screwed up… and I want to fix it… I'd give anything to fix it for him…"

He fell silent, trying to stop the tears. It all felt like so much. The burden was so overwhelming.

"I know I can't give up," Dean said wearily. "But I can't help but wonder if it's worth fighting for anymore."


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Dean sat outside at his spot by the lake. The sun's rays were still warm despite the cooler fall weather that was approaching. There were white fluffy clouds scattered about in the sky and a cool breeze ruffled his short hair.

He looked down at the notebook in his hands and sighed. Dr. Morgan had given him an assignment for their next session.

_"Write a letter to Sam. It's not a letter I expect you to give him, so you should feel free to write down anything you have ever thought or wanted to tell him. All your thoughts. All your feelings."_

_The doctor handed Dean his notebook, slightly battered by the abuse Dean had given it._

_"I want you to write it in this. Honesty, Dean, is all I'm expecting from this."_

Dean had almost rolled his eyes at first when given the assignment. Seriously, a letter? That's it? But, well, that's what the doctor wanted, so Dean was willing to at least try.

So after lunch he had settled himself in his spot with Castiel watching him from a distance. That was fine. He could still see the angel and know where he was. Dean settled back against the tree and flipped the notebook open to a blank page. He clicked the pen and thought for a moment about what to write.

***

_Dear Sam,_

_So the doc wanted me to write you a letter that I'm actually never going to give to you. I'm supposed to tell you all my thoughts and feelings about us and what we've gone through and all that. Yeah, it's the gayest sounding shit ever, but I said I would do it since the doc said so and you wanted me to do whatever he said._

_I really don't know what the hell he expects me to write to you about. I mean, we've been together for the last, what? Five years? I think you know a guy pretty well after that long. Not to mention growing up with them. _

_OK, well, I guess that's not totally true, especially these last couple years. I mean, yeah, you know a lot about what happened to me. More than I ever wanted you to know. I really didn't want you to know I remembered Hell. I mean, Christ, why the hell would I want you to? And things were a lot better before you found out I remembered. OK, besides the whole angel and Apocalypse crap. I actually thought we would be able to get back to normal. And I thought I had it under control. I really did. I know I started drinking a little more than before, but I was keeping the flashbacks in check and I was able to keep it together. I could still do my damn job and not freak out about it. We were working cases and things were good._

_Then I got that fucking Ghost Sickness. Christ, Sammy, that's when it all fell apart. Every fucking memory I had of Hell just came back to me when I had that. Everything just started falling apart. God, I was scared. It was like someone had just stuck me back in Hell again. Or, at least, stuck me on the waiting list for it. All I could think about was that I was going to die again. That Castiel and the angels really didn't give a shit about me and I was going to die again and go back. It was fucking awful. The wait was a million times worse this time. At least before I could pretend it wasn't real. It wasn't going to happen or it wasn't going to be that bad. But after being there, God, Sammy. I don't ever want to go back._

_I think about it every God damn day though. Every day I wonder if this is gonna be it. If this is the day I'm going back. I know it doesn't make sense that I went and did stupid shit like trying to off myself. I mean, that would just give me my ticket straight back there. But sometimes being alive, knowing what I know, it's almost worse. But at least before the alcohol numbed all that. I didn't really think about it all that much. But when I'm sober, Christ, I think about it almost every second._

_I deserve to go back though, Sam. I know I do. I know you don't understand why, but if you had seen the things I did while I was in the Pit, if you knew the feelings I had felt while I was there…_

Dean paused in his writing for a moment. He squeezed his eyes closed as they began to fill with tears. After a minute he opened them back up and began writing again.

_I was evil, Sammy. Evil like the evil we hunt evil. I stopped caring about what I was doing. It began feeling good. I mean really good. I felt so powerful, so in control. And after being so powerless for so long, it felt good to hurt someone else the way I had been hurt. _

_And I wasn't just cutting them, Sam. I fucking dissected them. It was like back in high school, biology class when we cut up that frog. I would pull their guts out while they lay there, screaming at me. I pulled out their fingernails one at a time. Shit, Sam, I… I fucking would rape them while I tortured them. They'd cry and beg me to stop, and I just didn't care anymore. I wanted to hurt them. I wanted to see how much I could make them scream and suffer. I loved it. I became this sick fucking bastard and I couldn't stop it. Didn't want to._

He dropped the pen and notebook next to him and buried his face in his hands and began sobbing, the memories viciously clawing their way to the forefront of his mind. He stomach knotted and he felt the bile rising in his throat as the images of the souls he tortured flashed in his mind, their features twisted in agony as their blood and gore covered his hands and knife. Their screams echoed in his ears, no matter how loudly he sobbed.

After a few minutes he sobs slowed and he slowly looked up. He cast a guilty glance at Castiel, embarrassed about having another breakdown being witnessed. The angel, however, was simply sitting on the dock, looking over the lake silently. Dean quickly wiped his eyes off on his sleeves and forced himself to pick the notebook back up. Taking a deep breath, he flipped it back open to where he had left off.

_Thank God, you're never going to read this, Sam. I know you're already pretty disappointed in me. I know how weak your big brother must look in your eyes. I hate writing this. I don't even know why I told you any of it anyway. I mean, I know you've asked about it enough times. And there have been times where I just wanted to tell you everything. Just lay it all out for you so I wouldn't have to keep all of it a secret anymore. Christ, you deserve to know what a horrible person I am. I feel like I'm lying to you every day I don't talk about it. _

_I wish you still looked up to me like you used to. Like when we were kids. God, you used to follow me everywhere! I could hardly go take a piss and you'd be outside the door asking what I was doing! But, back then, at least I was still your big brother who would always protect you. Could keep you safe. I could tell you to do something and you'd do it, no questions asked. You trusted me back then. And we had no secrets. We were both open books back then._

_Then you went to Stanford. God, Sammy. God, I hated you so much when you left. I thought you were such an asshole for leaving and abandoning me and Dad. It felt like you were too good for us. That everything we had done was beneath you. I thought you were such a selfish prick then. But the worst part was I was all alone. And I don't mean just being alone with Dad. He would go and disappear for days on end and I'd be all alone. I hated it. I mean, I managed. I did what I had to. But every day I wished you'd come back. I wished you would realize what a dumbass thing you had done by leaving and you'd come back and we would be a family again._

_And this is going to sound like shittiest thing in the world to say. God, you really can never read this cuz you'd hate me forever if you knew. But there was a small part of me, when Jess died, that was almost happy about it. I was happy cuz we were together again. We were a family again. And I don't mean I wanted Jess to die. For the brief time I met her she seemed awesome. But if she hadn't died you would never have started hunting again._

_I'm such a selfish prick, Sam. All I ever cared about was not being alone. Being the best hunter. Doing whatever I could to make Dad proud of me, just once. I didn't care if that's what you wanted. _

_And look at where it's gotten us. I do stupid shit and wind up starting the Apocalypse. All because I didn't want to lose you. I mean, I don't regret bringing you back, Sam. Not for one second. I'm just sorry I didn't prepare you better for when I was gone. That you had to suffer so much. And I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger while I was in Hell for you. I'm sorry you had to get dragged into this demon versus angels crap. I'm sorry I didn't protect you better when we were kids and that damn shrtiga almost got you. I'm sorry I didn't come see you more when you went to Stanford. I'm sorry I let you go into that diner that alone and that fucking Yellow-Eyes bastard took you when I should have been there to protect you._

_Sam, if there was a way I could fix all this I would do it. I would do anything to change all those times I hurt you. I'm so sorry you have to see me like this now. I know having to deal with me like this is probably some of the worst times we've faced. I know I've hurt you with some of the stupid shit I've pulled._

_I don't know if Dr. Morgan can fix me, Sam. I don't know if me being fixed is ever possible. Hell destroyed me, or at least who I was. I don't know if there's ever a way to come back from that._

_All I know is, Sam, I don't ever want to lose you again. I hope every day that you don't find out what a shit bag I am. I'm so afraid of you leaving me again. Christ, Sam, I can't handle that again. Yeah, I have Cas. But he's not my brother. He hasn't been through everything we have together. And I know you have Ruby. And I hate her guts for it. I wonder all the time if one of these days you're going to finally leave because of her. Because you trust her more than me. I tolerate her for you. I do. Personally, I want nothing more than to just gank her stupid grinning face. But you say no so I don't. She just better never hurt you. I'll make her sorry as hell then._

_Sam, I just want you to know I will try to get better. Funny that I'm saying that in a letter you'll never read. But I'm putting it in writing as my promise to you. I'm going to keep trying, no matter how much I want to just give up. Somehow, I'll get through this._

_Dean_


	32. Chapter 32

Warning: The first part of the story the doctor tells in this chapter is very graphic and is based on a story my history teacher told my class back in high school. It made one hell of an impression on me and I decided this would be the story to put it in. As always, it is very graphic and what makes it the most disturbing is that it's something that actually happened. Please read at your own discretion.

******************************************************************************

Chapter 32

Dean shifted uncomfortably on the couch while Dr. Morgan silently read his journal. The doctor had requested another session before Sam and Bobby were to arrive for dinner and Dean had reluctantly agreed. Now, he watched Dr. Morgan's face as he read the letter to Sam, his face betraying nothing about his feelings towards it. Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Dean, the doctor closed the notebook and handed it back to Dean. He then took off his reading glasses and ran a hand over his tired face.

"Thank you, Dean, for being honest and sharing that with me. I know it had to be difficult."

Dean swallowed hard, unable to meet the doctor's eyes.

"Well, that's what you asked for."

There was a tense pause before Dr. Morgan spoke again.

"Dean, you have suffered a great deal of emotional trauma over the course of your life starting at a very early age. I am concerned most, though, about the guilt you are harboring over the things that you did while in Hell."

Dean nervously began to shake his head and started to speak, but the doctor held up his hand to silence him.

"I understand you do not want to discuss what happened in Hell, Dean. I understand very well how painful those memories are for you and how difficult it is to have to relive them when you share them with me."

"Doc," Dean said quietly, "I'm sorry, but I don't see how you can understand. I mean, I know you've dealt with a lot of hunters and heard their stories, but you have no idea what it's like to do the things I've done."

"Is that so?"

The tone of the doctor's voice took Dean aback. He looked at him and saw Dr. Morgan regarding him calmly.

"How the hell could you know what it's like to torture people?"

"Perhaps because there was an instance in my life where I did commit such an act."

That was not the response Dean had been expecting. He stared at the doctor, his mouth agape. Dr. Morgan sighed.

"I have been reluctant to share this with you, Dean, as I don't particularly enjoy retelling this time of my life. However, you have been quite candid with me in sharing your stories. I do believe I owe you the same."

He settled back in his chair and took a deep breath.

"It was the year 1969 and I was a young man who had joined the army thinking I was going to do great things in serving my country. I was deployed to Vietnam and wound up spending a year there.

"One day, my platoon had been fighting this one group of Viet Cong. Bad fight. Many of the men died or got lost that day. Five of us got separated from the rest of the group when we were trying to fall back when we heard one of our guys calling for help. His name was Tom Avis. Nice kid. Only 18 at the time. We went to go help him and we couldn't figure out why he was screaming so damn bad. We didn't hear the enemy so we didn't know what was happening to him."

The doctor paused at this point, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his eyes with it. He swallowed hard before continuing.

"When we finally found him we saw why he had been screaming. The enemy had him tied to a tree. They gutted him while he was still alive and ran his intestines through the jungle along the path we were on and hid it under the leaves and dirt on the ground. When we were running to help him we were running on his intestines."

Dean felt a cold chill run through him as he listened. Dr. Morgan carefully pressed on in his story.

"We were all just kids at the time, barely out of high school ourselves. We freaked right out and then we got caught by the enemy. They killed two of the guys and then took us other three prisoners. Tom… well, they just left him tied to that tree. Let the poor kid bleed to death in that God forsaken jungle.

"They took us back to their camp and we spent 4 months as their prisoners. They'd beat the hell out of us every day. Our backs, our feet. Whatever they were in the mood for. Starved us. Made us work in their gardens if they needed it. One kid, Markus, died of infection. That left me and Joe. We were both positive that God had abandoned us in the Hell hole. That we would die there too."

The doctor nodded slowly.

"But then they made a mistake.

"There was a battle up river from the camp we were at. All the men took off, leaving us alone with just a few women who helped manage the camp. They must have figured we were too weak to do anything or that the women would be able to manage us. They hadn't counted on how pissed off we were. How we just didn't care anymore. And just how badly we wanted our revenge.

"We got ourselves loose and then we just tore that camp apart. Those women had no idea what to do and they never really had a chance. We got our hands on some weapons they left behind and we slaughtered every living thing in that camp. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before and I've never felt it again. We were out for blood and we didn't care how we got it. If that is what being possessed is like, well, then that's what we were. We gutted those women like they had gutted Tom and then took an old truck they had left and managed to get the hell out of there."

Dr. Morgan paused in his story again to dab his eyes. Dean swallowed hard, his mouth dry.

"How did you deal with it?" Dean asked softly.

The doctor sighed and shook his head.

"Not very well. We got sent home after they found us, but once it finally sank in what I had done… well… I couldn't forgive myself. Tried drinking, tried drugs. Anything to make me forget. But what I did haunted me. I spent a year living on the streets because I couldn't keep it together."

"So what happened? I mean… you're normal now."

Dr. Morgan chuckled at Dean's response.

"That credit has to go to my mother. She found me and made me clean up my act. Told me that she didn't raise me to be some street bum."

He then leaned forward and locked his gaze with Dean's.

"She also told me that I needed to accept the mistakes I had made and face them. I couldn't go back and change what I had done. There was no way to do that. What I could do, however, was learn from it and use it to make myself a better person. Now, that doesn't excuse what I did. I committed a horrible act and there's not a day that goes by that I don't wish Joe and I had just grabbed that truck and left and not laid a hand on anyone in that camp. But I did it and I will have to answer to God for it someday. But what I can do today is do everything I can to help someone else who needs it. That's why I became a psychiatrist, especially one who works with hunters. I understand the things people are capable of doing and what that can do to someone long-term. I believe I didn't die in that camp because that is my purpose. I'm meant to help people sort out there problems. To help them move on."

Dean sat in stunned silence, processing what the doctor had just shared with him. Dr. Morgan smiled gently at him.

"Do you think less of me now, Dean?"

Dean looked at him surprised.

"What? No! No, of course not!"

"Do you think I am an evil person?"

"No! I mean, come on! They tortured you. You weren't in your right mind."

"Were you in your right mind when you were tortured in Hell, Dean?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth quickly, startled by the question.

"No… no, I wasn't."

"So why do you think the people who care about you should think less of you because of what you went through?"

Dean sat silently, amazed by this new revelation.

"I… I hadn't thought about it like that…"

Dr. Morgan nodded.

"I want you to think about it, Dean. And we'll discuss it more tomorrow."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Dean couldn't think straight.

Bobby and Sam had arrived for dinner later that evening. There had been plenty of hugs and concerned smiles, but Dean felt like he was walking in a fog, like he was viewing the world through someone else's eyes. He had smiled back, tried to joke with them. Went through the motions of being fine like he always done.

But he didn't feel "fine."

He couldn't believe the story the doctor had told him. Part him felt it was too terrible to be true. That such things shouldn't be possible on this earth. But then, Dean knew deep down just how evil some people could be. Hell, he knew there were people out there that could put what Alistair did to shame.

What terrified him the most was the idea that someone could actually have any form of understanding about what he went through. Even though the doctor's time of suffering had been much shorter than his own, it was still horrific and it still provided a glimpse of what Dean had suffered.

Dean looked around the table where they were eating. Doris was telling Bobby and Sam some story about Dr. Morgan back when he was a child. Bobby and Sam were laughing and the doctor was chuckling while he ate. Even Castiel seemed entertained by her story. Dean found himself watching the doctor, almost fascinated. Dr. Morgan seemed so calm, relaxed. No outward hints about how he had suffered or what he had done. He thought about the picture of his daughter in the office and what he had told Dean about his family. Even after everything he _still_ managed to keep moving forward.

He watched Doris pat Dr. Morgan's arm and smile lovingly at him. She knew what had happened to him. What he had done. And yet she still loved him. She was even the one to pull him back from the brink all those years ago. She wasn't angry or resentful towards him. She didn't act disappointed in him.

And, truthfully, she had never acted bothered by what Dean had done.

His gaze wandered over to Sam. He felt his heart thunder in his chest as he watched Sam eat his dinner and listen attentively to Doris' stories. He realized that Sam was free to leave any time he wanted to at this point. There was absolutely no reason why he should still be staying with Bobby. He could be off working cases or doing whatever with Ruby. There was nothing holding him back.

Except that Sam _chose_ to stay. For him.

Dean felt the nervous energy coursing through him, demanding to be let out. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Do you hate me, Sam?"

A stunned silence fell over the table. Everyone turned to look at Dean, including a startled Sam.

"Wha- what?" Sam stammered.

Dean forced himself to look up from his plate and meet Sam's gaze. He didn't allow himself to look at anyone else.

"Do you hate me? Do you hate me after everything I've put you through?"

Sam stared at him, trying to grasp what he was saying. Dr. Morgan quietly put down his fork and folded his hands, watching the exchange.

"Dean," Sam finally said quietly, shaking his head, "I've _never_ hated you. And especially not after what's happened the last few weeks."

"Do you hate me because of what I did in Hell? Because you should."

Dean didn't know where this was all coming from. Part of him desperately wanted to shut up, to stop the conversation now, but he knew it was too late. And the other part of him, a more needy part, had to know the truth.

Sam looked at him incredulously.

"What? No! Dean, why would I hate you for that?"

"I don't know, Sam. Maybe I got off on torturing souls for ten years in Hell."

Sam's expression darkened.

"That wasn't your fault, Dean! And, no, I don't hate you for it!"

Dean slammed his fist down on the table. He felt himself beginning to shake with the emotions coursing through him.

"Why not!? I'm fucked up, Sam! I'm a bad person!"

Sam let out a bitter laugh. Both brothers had completely forgotten about the others sitting at the table.

"_You're_ fucked up! Christ, Dean! I have fucking demon blood in me! I have these weird ass powers because of it! And while you were dead, I nearly drank myself to death _and_ slept with a fucking _demon_! And I've some pretty shitty things myself."

"Oh please! Like what?"

"I've shot you _twice_!"

"You were possessed one of those times! Actually both! That ghost shrink and Meg made you do it!"

"Dean, you know that the shrink just got me to do what I had been thinking! And then there was that last fight we had over the siren! I could have killed you!"

"Well, I tried to kill you too! And I would have if Bobby hadn't shown up so we're even there!"

Tears began to fill Sam's eyes.

"I walked out on you more than once."

Dean was caught off by that remark.

"You… wanted to go to college. And the other time was just over stupid stuff."

Sam shook his head emphatically. "I left when you and Dad probably needed me the most. And I never called or tried to write you. You can't tell me you don't hate me for that."

Dean swallowed hard, tears beginning to sting his own eyes.

"I… I never hated you for that."

Sam let out a bitter laugh.

"That's bullshit, Dean, and we both know it. You had every right to be pissed off and hate me for what I did. The point is we've both done stupid shit that we're not proud of. _Really_ stupid shit. But I've never hated you for anything you've done. I've gotten pissed off. I've been frustrated when you're being a stubborn ass. But I've never hated you. I mean, Christ, Dean. You're my brother. You're the only family I have left and you're the only one I know will always have my back, even when I do something stupid. And I don't care what dumb ass thing you do, because I'll always have yours."

The tears began rolling down Sam's face and he did nothing to hide them. Dean couldn't stop the tears he felt trickling down his cheeks.

"I… I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean managed to whisper.

Sam shook his head. "You don't need to keep apologizing to me, Dean. I just want you to get better. I want for us to go out there and be able to hunt again like we used to. And I want my brother back. I want the smart-ass, horn-dog brother that would always be ready for anything, no matter how insane it was. I just want you happy, Dean. That's all."

They both fell silent. Bobby, Doris, and Castiel watched them sadly while Dr. Morgan studied each brother.

"Dean," the doctor finally said gently, "How do you feel now after hearing what Sam had to say?"

Dean swallowed hard and wiped his face with his hand.

"I… I dunno… better…"

"Was that what you had expected to hear from him?"

Dean hesitated a moment before slowly shaking his head.

"I… I figured he'd hate me even a little."

"And how do you feel now that you know he doesn't?"

Dean thought for a moment and then a small smile touched his lips.

"I… I feel better."

Dr. Morgan and everyone else at the table smiled with relief. He then looked at Sam.

"Sam, how do you feel about Dean sharing how he feels with you?"

Sam smiled weakly while wiping his face.

"Relieved," Sam said quickly. "I didn't realize that he was that worried about what I thought."

Dr. Morgan nodded. "You both did very well. I want you both to continue to being open with each other and discuss these issues you have been dealing with."

Everyone resumed eating after that, but Dean and Sam exchanged looks, both wearing relieved smiles on their faces.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

_It was hot. So hot. The heat seared through Dean through his flesh down to his bones. The sickening stench of sulfur stifled him, causing him to gasp desperately for air. There was screaming… always screaming… endless cries of fear, anger, torture…_

_Alistair stood over him, the blade of his razor glinting in the harsh light of the room._

_"It's never going to end, Dean," the demon sneered."Doesn't matter what that doctor tells you. Doesn't matter what Sam says. You know you're a monster. You know you still have those urges… the urge to maim… to torture…"_

_Dean shook his head and desperately tried to look away. But he couldn't move… couldn't escape…_

_"No one's going to save you, Dean… you're going to be all alone… when they find out who you really are… Sammy's gonna leave… he's gonna leave you all alone…"_

_"No! He said he was never going to leave! Shut up!"_

_Alistair smirked and then dug the razor blade into Dean's leg at the ankle and began dragging it upward. Dean screamed in agony._

_"That's right, Dean. Scream for me. Cuz this is how it's going to be. I'm going to cut you all up over… and over… and over…"_

_"Stop it! Please stop! Help me! Somebody help me! Sam! Help, Sam! SAM!!!"_

***

Dean's eyes flew open and he gasped in a breath of clean, clear air. It took him a moment to come out of his dream and remember where he was. He was still at Dr. Morgan's house. He wasn't in Hell. He was safe.

He turned his head to look at the nearby chair. His stomach sank when he didn't see Castiel sitting there like usual.

_Of course he's not there_, Dean told himself. _I'm doing better. He doesn't have to babysit me 24/7. He has other stuff to deal with, like the end of the world!_

He sat up in the bed, his breath coming out in pants. His t-shirt clung to his sweat-soaked skin and a chill went through him as the air hit him. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stop shaking without success.

He got up and flipped on the light switch, blinking as the room was flooded with light. He began pacing, trying to calm himself and not think about the dream.

"Doc said I'm gonna get better," Dean whispered to himself, trying to relax. "He got through his shit and I can get through mine. And Sammy's not leaving. He already told me so. He's gonna stick with me and we're going to get through this together. I'm gonna get through this."

He wanted a drink. He hadn't wanted a drink this badly in awhile. He desperately wanted the comfort the alcohol would instantly bring him. He wanted to numb himself. He wanted to not feel so god damned afraid.

"No drink, Dean," He whispered desperately to himself. "Come on, you don't need it. It won't help. And you have to stay strong for Sam. You promised him you wouldn't drink."

He felt the fear creeping inside of him despite his words. He felt desperately alone, but he didn't want to bother the doctor or Doris. The clock was reading 2 am and Dean didn't want to disturb them with this.

He slipped on a pair of pants. He couldn't take it anymore. He didn't care. He would walk to the damn liquor store down the road and buy himself some alcohol. He couldn't bear the pain anymore. He had to make it stop somehow.

He slipped out of his room and made his way down the hallway. He didn't bother putting on his shoes. He stopped in the darkened kitchen, desperately searching for some money he could use to buy the alcohol.

Then his eyes fell on the phone.

Dean stopped as he looked at it, remembering back to one of his earlier sessions. God, he didn't want to bug Sam at this hour. But then, Sam would be pissed as hell if he found out Dean had stolen money from Dr. Morgan and snuck out to by alcohol without telling anyone. He grabbed the phone and went back to his room.

He sat on the bed and stared anxiously at the phone in his hands. What if he was busy? What if he found a case he needed to work on? What if he was with… her?

Dean snorted at that thought and dialed. That was a good enough reason to call for him. He held his breath as he heard it ring once… twice… three times…

"Hello?" A groggy Sam answered.

"Dean nervously moistened his lips.

"Hey… Sam. It's me. Dean."

"Dean?" He could tell Sam was more awake now. "What's wrong? Are you OK? Did something happen?"

"I… I'm OK…" Dean lied. "I… I just wanted to… you know… talk."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"You called at 2 am to just talk?" Sam asked incredulously.

Dean swallowed hard, trying to push down the anxiety filling him. He desperately tried to make his voice sound normal.

"Yeah… yeah. I mean, what? I can't just call to say hi?"

"You call to say hi at two in the afternoon, not the morning," Sam replied, his voice firm. "Now are you going to tell me what's wrong or what?"

Dean's eyes began to fill with tears and he ran his hand anxiously through his hair. He could feel his heart jackhammer in his rib cage and he thought he was going to be sick any second.

"Dean? Dean, what's wrong? Come on, man. Talk to me."

Dean began shaking his head.

"I… I had a nightmare… again… and Castiel isn't here… and the doc and Doris are sleeping… and I don't want to bother them… but I want a drink, Sam… I really need one… I'm freaking out here and I can't take much more… but I know I can't and I didn't want to bother you… but I didn't know what else to do…"

"It's OK, Dean," Sam said quickly. "It's OK. I'm glad you called. Look, how about I come over for awhile? We can sit on the porch and talk until you feel better. Would that help?"

Dean wiped away the tears that had begun rolling down his face and nodded.

"Yeah," Dean managed to choke out. "Yeah, that'd be good, Sam."

"OK. I just have to tell Bobby where I'm going and I'll be right there. Just hang in there, alright?"

Dean felt a jolt of panic as he realized Sam was getting ready to hang up.

"Wait! Sam…"

"What is it, Dean?"

Dean swallowed hard and felt ridiculous for asking.

"Could… could you stay on the phone with me? Until you get here?"

There was a pause on the other end and Dean was almost positive Sam would have some remark for that request.

"Sure, Dean. I'll stay on the phone with you."

Dean let out a relieved sigh. He heard Sam tell Bobby where he was going and then heard him go outside and get into the car. Soon, Sam was on his way.

"So, Cas didn't say where he was going?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "No. He was gone when I woke up. And he doesn't need to anyway. He's got other shit to deal with."

"I know. But still. It'd be nice to be kept informed at least once in awhile."

"Yeah, it would."

"Maybe Uriel is pissed at him for hanging around you so much."

Dean suddenly realized Sam hadn't heard the latest news.

"Shit. I forgot you didn't know."

"Know what?"

Dean relayed what had happened between Castiel and Uriel and the results. He heard Sam gasp in shock.

"Shit, Dean. That's not good!"

"Tell me about it."

******************************************************************************

Alright. Just trying to come up with a conversation they would have. I decided that I wanted to really focus the story now on fixing the brothers' relationship since we have to wait until _September_ until that can happen on the show! : ( I also plan on wrapping this story up in the next few chapters so I can work on a couple other ones I have in the works.

Thanks for reading! : )


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Thirty minutes later, Dean watched Sam pull up in front of the house in the Impala. He couldn't help letting out a relieved sigh as he hung up the phone and watched Sam get out of the car. Even though Sam had stayed on the phone with him the whole way over, Dean couldn't help but feel more comfort when he actually saw his brother come walking up to the porch.

"Hey," Sam said as he walked up the steps.

"Hey," Dean replied, forcing a weak smile.

Sam studied him, a concerned look on his face.

"So, are you OK?"

Dean swallowed hard and dropped his gaze. He desperately wanted to lie. To tell Sam he was fine and that he was sorry for dragging him out of bed to come over at 2 am. But he couldn't. Because deep down he knew he wanted Sam to be there with him. He wanted Sam to be the one to help him through all this.

"Yeah… yeah I'm OK… I just… I didn't want to be alone," Dean admitted quietly.

Sam nodded, his face filled with concern.

"Hey, Dean, it's OK. I said to call me if you wanted me to come over and I'm here. I don't mind."

Dean couldn't help but smile gratefully.

"Thanks, Sam."

His gaze traveled over to the Impala sitting in the driveway. Dean felt a sudden ache of sadness as he realized just how much he missed driving.

"You've been taking care of her?" Dean asked, motioning towards the car.

Sam looked over and chuckled.

"Yes, Dean, I've been taking care of her."

"No douching her up?"

"I haven't douched her up, Dean."

Dean smirked and couldn't help but stare. God, he wanted to go for a ride. _Bad_.

"Hey, let's go for a ride," Dean said suddenly.

Sam looked at him startled. "What?"

"Take me for a quick ride. We don't have to go far."

Sam looked at Dean like he had grown another head. "No!"

Dean pouted. "Why not?"

"Um, because Dr. Morgan will kick my ass for taking you joy-riding at two o'clock in the morning without asking first! And that's if Bobby doesn't find out and get to me first!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, we won't go far! Just around the block!"

"Dean, we're in South Dakota! There is no around the block here! It's more like around the cornfield!"

"So, we'll drive around a cornfield."

"Dude, those cornfields are huge out here!"

"Come on, Sam!" Dean whined. "Please, I need to get out of here, just for a little while. I haven't been anywhere in almost a week!"

Sam let out an exasperated sigh and threw up his hands.

"Dean, I don't want to get you in trouble!"

"We don't need to go far, Sam. Seriously. I don't care if we just go down the road and back. I just… I just don't want to sit here… please?"

Dean looked pleadingly at Sam. Sam tried to look stern but knew deep down it was pointless. After all the shit Dean had been through it seemed a pretty small request to take him for a ride.

"Fine. But on two conditions."

Dean grinned broadly. "Name 'em!"

"One, I drive."

Dean sighed reluctantly, but nodded.

"And two?"

"Two, you at least leave the doc a note letting him know you're with me and you leave my cell number with it."

Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"You're such a mom."

"Say yes or it's no deal."

Dean let out an exaggerated sigh. "OK. I'll leave a note."

Sam grinned and nodded. "Alright then. Go leave the note and we'll go. But only for a _quick_ ride!"

Dean smiled and darted into the house. He found a piece of paper and pen and quickly scribbled out a note saying he went for a ride with Sam and would be right back and he also added Sam's cell phone number. He then bounded out of the house and made a beeline for the car.

"Let's go!"

******************************************************************************

OK. This was going to be longer but my back is hurting from sitting here and the meds I took to help is now making me veeeeery sleepy! Besides, I gave you guys, what? Three- four updates in 24 hours? I'd say that should hold you over until I can write more! : )


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Dean felt the tension slowly ease from his body over every mile the Impala traveled into the night. The partially rolled-down wind blew in a cool breeze that the hunter relished breathing in. The dark road before them was deserted and the only sounds that could be heard were the car's motor purring along the road and the soft music playing from the radio. The brothers had spent the last ten minutes in amiable silence, each happy just to be in each other's company, both comforted by its familiarity.

After a while, however, Sam decided it was time for them to talk.

"Hey… Dean?"

Dean glanced over at him, unable to help tensing slightly at Sam's tone. "Yeah?"

"Are you going to tell me why you called? I mean… I'm glad you did… but… you haven't exactly been very talkative the last couple weeks…"

Dean sighed. "I know… I know, Sam. And I'm sorry. I've been a real douche bag."

Sam began to protest. "No, Dean-"

"Yeah, I have. I know I've said some shitty things and I've done even worse. I just… I did some thinking… and I know I need to be a little more honest, you know? I mean… I know I have to talk about what I'm feeling… that's what the doc said anyway… it's just… not used to it I guess…"

He made himself look up at Sam who was nodding.

"I know, Dean… Dad didn't really raise us to talk things out…"

Dean nodded with a smirk. "Yeah… but get this. Dad actually went to Dr. Morgan?"

Sam looked at him in shock.

"Seriously? _Dad!?_"

"I know, right? I couldn't believe it either."

Sam paused for a moment before he hesitantly spoke.

"So… what did he see him for?"

Dean shrugged. "Dunno. Doc hasn't told me. I guess it's that whole patient privacy stuff."

The brothers were silent again for a few minutes, listening to AC/DC on the radio.

"Dean… you still haven't told me why you called," Sam said finally, bringing them back to the original conversation.

Dean sighed. He looked out the window as he tried to figure out how to say it, but nothing came to mind. He finally took a deep breath.

"It… it was another nightmare," He said quietly.

Sam nodded, waiting patiently for the rest of the story. Dean balled his hands up into fists, trying to control the shaking he could feel in his body.

"I was… back there… in Hell… and he… Alistair… was there… well… it was basically the same dream I always have… I'm always back there… and he's always there… and he's always cutting me up… that's how they always start…"

Dean swallowed hard as he kept his gaze focused on the darkened view outside the car window. He couldn't bring himself to look at Sam while sharing this. He didn't want to see Sam's reaction, whatever the reaction may be.

"This one… he was cutting me… again… and…" Dean tried to moisten his lips with his parched tongue. "He said stuff…"

He fell silent and Sam could sense how difficult this was for him to be sharing.

"What did he say?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean took a deep breath and tried to blink back the tears he could feel forming.

"He… he said that… that I was a monster… that nothing the doc would do would ever change that… that I would always be a monster… and you…" Dean's voice caught and he shook his head.

Sam frowned, trying to remain focused on the road, but also trying to watch his brother.

"What did he say about me?"

A bitter smile touched Dean's lips.

"That when found out… found out what I monster I am… you'll leave."

Dean closed his eyes, the words of his confession cutting through him like Alistair's blade. God, it hurt to tell Sam that, even though they had already had this discussion the previous day.

Sam sat silently for a moment, staring at the road ahead of him, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Suddenly, he jerked the steering wheel to the right, yanking the car to the side of the road, and then slammed on the brakes. Dean nearly fell over at the abrupt stop.

"Dude! What the fuck?" Dean yelped as he tried to right himself.

Sam slammed the car into park and spun around to face Dean. His face was more serious than Dean could ever remember seeing it before.

"Alright. Let's get one thing fucking straight right now, Dean. _I am __**not**__ going anywhere!_ I don't give a shit about what you did in Hell. You are not a monster. Alistair is a fucking lying piece of shit of a demon and he doesn't know a fucking thing about us! You are my brother, Dean! And I already lost you once and I swear I'm not going to let it happen again! So next time you have one of your dreams you tell that mother fucker that he's full of shit. I'm your brother and I will never leave you again. And I'm not going to let you leave me either! We're in this together and we'll get through this together."

Dean stared at Sam who met his gaze without an ounce of fear. Dean knew Sam meant every word he was saying.

"I… I know, Sam… it's just… it's just when I have those dreams… shit, Sam… it's like I'm right back there… and there's no hope… there's just… pain… fear…"

"But you're not there, Dean! You're back here! You're back with us. And you're not going back there. I won't let you and neither will Castiel. You won't ever go back!"

Dean laughed bitterly. "Are you sure? I mean, once all this is over it wouldn't surprise me if they toss me back in the Pit. I mean, it's not like they would want me upstairs!"

Sam glared at him. "Stop saying that! That's bullshit and you know it! And what the hell is that saying about me then? I have _demon blood_ in me! If either of us has the ticket straight to Hell it's me!"

Now it was Dean's turn to glare. "That wasn't your choice, Sam! I made a choice to do what I did!"

Sam laughed. "Please! Dean, you have no idea some of the stupid ass choices I have made since you've been gone! I've done some really messed up things. Things that I never even thought I was capable of doing, but I did them anyways! And I made the choice to do them! So what does that say about me? Do you hate me now? Are you going to leave me because of it?"

Dean was speechless. He shook his head as he struggled to speak.

"I… you… Sam, you know I'd never leave you!"

Sam nodded, obviously satisfied. "Good. So quit talking about me leaving! I'm staying and you're staying so it looks like we're going to be stuck with each other until the bitter end. So deal with it."

Silence fell over the brothers again. Dean couldn't help but be amazed that despite all the other crap in his life that he could have been lucky enough to have Sam for a brother. That Sam was one of the few things in his life he could depend on. It was a very humbling feeling, but also one that gave him some hope; hope that hadn't been there before he called Sam.

"So," Sam said, settling back in the seat, trying to steer clear of the _chick-flick_ moment that he knew would embarrass Dean. "It was the dream then that made you want a drink?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah… I mean, before when I had the dreams I could just take a drink and it would help calm me down. Help mellow me out. But now…" He shook his head. "Now… just seems like I feel _everything_… and I feel so… so out of control… sometimes I can't even think straight…"

He let his gaze travel out the window and took a deep breath.

"But the worst times are when I'm awake… I'll have these… these moments… if I start thinking about Hell… or the stuff I did… if I think about it too much it's like I'm suddenly back there… Christ, it's so fucking real… I can smell it… hear it… feel it… and if I close my eyes I see it…" Dean stopped abruptly, covering his face with his hand.

"But it's not real," Sam said gently. "You're awake and you know it's not real."

Dean swallowed hard and shook his head. "You don't get it, Sam. It _feels_ so fucking real… I honestly can't tell. It's like when I had that Ghost Sickness, but now I don't know when I'm gonna freak out… I don't know what the trigger is gonna be… and before the alcohol took care of it… I could drink it away… but now… shit… sometimes just looking at the handprint Cas gave me is enough to set it off!"

Dean fell silent, unable to speak anymore. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, trying to fight down the panic he could already feel building up inside of him. Sam frowned at Dean's sudden silence and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean? What's wrong?" His frown deepened as he felt Dean trembling under his hand. "Jesus, Dean! What is it?"

Dean shook his head emphatically and forced a weak smile. "See? I… I can't even fucking talk about it… can't even think about it… I start freaking out too much…"

Suddenly, Dean could faintly smell the stench of sulfur start filtering in through the open window. Sweat began to pour off his forehead.

"Oh crap," He whimpered under his breath.

Sam's concern began to grow. "Dean? Talk to me, man! What's wrong?"

"We need to go," Dean croaked out, wrapping his arms around himself.

"OK," Sam said uncertainly, but started up the car. He shot another anxious glance at his brother. "I'm going to take you back to Doctor Morgan's, OK?"

Dean nodded gratefully. When he heard Sam put the car into gear he forced himself to look up and open his eyes despite his fear.

Then he saw him.

Twenty feet down the road stood Alistair, his form lit up by the Impala's headlights. His eyes were jet black and he had a sinister smirk on his face as his eyes locked with Dean's. He carried a large butcher knife in his right hand from which copious amounts of blood dripped from the blade. Dean's eyes widened in terror.

_I'm coming for you, Dean…_

"Drive, Sam! DRIVE NOW!!!" Dean cried out.

Sam, startled by Dean's reaction, floored the gas out of sheer instinct and spun the car around 180 degrees. He then shot down the road back towards the doctor's house.

"What!?!? What is it, Dean!?!? What did you see!?" Sam yelled, trying to look in the review mirror.

Dean looked into the side mirror. He could see Alistair running down the road behind them, the smirk never leaving his face. The demon continued to keep pace with the car.

"Faster, Sam! Faster! He's going to catch up!" Dean yelled in panic.

Dumbfounded, Sam kept looking from the road to the mirror.

"Dean! There's no one following us!"

Dean could no longer hear Sam. The screams of tortured souls echoed in his ears, drowning out everything else. He looked around desperately for something, anything to fight with. He finally opened the glove compartment and pulled out the small revolver they kept in there for emergencies. Its chambers contained silver bullets which would have to do.

Sam's eyes widened when he saw the gun.

"Fuck! Dean, what the fuck are you doing!?! Put the gun down, Dean!"

"He's coming, Sam! He's right behind us!" Dean said desperately. He pointed the gun out of the window and fired. Alistair simply leaned to one side and laughed as the bullet whizzed by him.

"SON OF A BITCH!!! Damn it, Dean! THERE IS NOTHING BACK THERE!!! Put the gun down! It's not real! Whatever you're seeing isn't there! Listen to me, Dean!"

Dean fired again and missed. He continued shooting, desperately trying to hit the demon to no avail. He was still coming.

_Gonna get you, Deano… but maybe I'll start by slicing up you're little brother while you watch…_

A sob escaped Dean's lips as he continued to fire. Suddenly, the gun only clicked, signaling he was out of bullets. Sam was trying to pull him back from the window.

"Stop it! Stop shooting! There's nothing there! Dean, listen to me!!! LISTEN!!!"

"He's trying to get me, Sam! He's almost here!"

All of a sudden, Sam slammed on the brakes, bringing them to a screeching halt. Dean looked at Sam in horror.

"What are you doing!?!? He's right there!" Dean screamed.

_I'm gonna get you, Dean…_

Sam looked sadly at Dean.

"Dean, I'm sorry I have to do this."

Before Dean could react Sam swung and hit Dean in the head, landing the blow just right to knock the man unconscious. Dean slumped over, the empty revolver slipping from his hand to the floor. The car fell silent, save for the music on the radio. Sam closed his eyes and wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. He gave one last glance in the review mirror revealing a still empty road behind them. The young man took a deep breath before shifting the car into gear and driving back the rest of the way to the doctor's house.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Dean felt the back of his head throb will a dull ache. He groaned as he slowly opened his eyes and blink against the harsh light. He shifted himself to a sitting position and looked around. As his eyes focused he could see he was in Dr. Morgan's living room, sitting on the couch. He turned his head to see Sam looking at him anxiously and Dr. Morgan calmly sitting nearby.

"Dean? How are you feeling?" The doctor asked gently.

Dean rubbed his eyes as if the action would lessen the pain. "My head hurts."

The doctor nodded. Doris quickly appeared and placed an ice pack on his head. She then held out a cup of water and a small plastic cup holding several pills. Dean looked at the cup and frowned.

"What are those?" He asked.

"Medicine," Dr. Morgan replied. "Tylenol, Benadryl, and Haldol."

Dean arched an eyebrow at the doctor. "What the heck do I need all that for?"

Dr. Morgan took a deep breath. "The Tylenol is for you headache. The Benadryl and Haldol, I'm afraid, are medications that I have decided to add to your treatment regimen."

Dean felt his stomach sink at the seriousness in his voice. "Oh… so… what do they do?"

"The Benadryl will help you sleep later. The Haldol is an antipsychotic."

Dean tensed. "You think I'm psychotic?" He asked bitterly.

"From what Sam told me I believe that this medication is necessary, Dean. This drug will help you to feel less anxious, have less anxious thoughts, and… decrease the incidence of hallucinations."

Dean felt like he had been slapped. His gaze shifted to Sam whose eyes were downcast and his body hunched over, dejected. Dean moistened his lips before dropping his gaze and slowly taking the two cups from Doris. He poured the pills in his mouth and then took a drink of water, swallowing them. He then handed the empty cups back silently.

"Now, Dean, I want to discuss what happened tonight. Sam told me some of it, but he was rather distraught when he brought you back. I would like to hear your version of the events."

Dean shifted on the couch and pressed the cold pack to his head, allowing the coldness to numb the throbbing. He didn't want to talk. In fact, talking was the last thing he felt like doing.

"What's there to tell? I'm sure Sam covered it pretty well," Dean replied, the harshness evident in his voice.

"I would like to hear what you have to say, Dean. I would like to know what happened."

The room fell tensely quiet. Dean stared at the pillow at the other side of the couch, wishing all this would just go away. He felt like an ass, again, but he knew deep down that there was no getting out of this.

"I wanted to go for a ride," Dean said quietly.

Dr. Morgan nodded. "And what happened to bring this about?"

Dean sighed. "I… I woke up because I had a nightmare…"

Silence.

"OK… look… I had a nightmare… and… and Cas was gone and I was kind of freaked out… and I wanted a drink… really really bad… but I didn't want to bother you guys and I was just gonna go find some cash to buy some alcohol at the liquor store…"

Dean waited for the lecture, the stern-talking to that was to begin. Dr. Morgan just looked thoughtfully at him, though.

"So did you buy the alcohol?"

The question took Dean slightly aback.

"What? Uh… no… no… I was going to… but then I saw the phone… and then I started thinking about how you said I should talk to Sam when I wanted to drink… and then I thought about how pissed Sam would be if I did drink… so I called him… and he came over so we could talk… we weren't gonna go for a drive originally… I swear… he was just gonna keep me company for a little while…"

The doctor nodded, listening silently.

"But… when I saw the car I thought about how long it's been since I had been anywhere… so I begged Sam to take me for a ride… just a quick one…"

Dean looked at the doctor anxiously.

"It… it was my idea… not Sam's… he shouldn't be in trouble because of me!"

Sam's head jerked up at that statement.

"Dean, it's not your fault I took you for a ride!" Sam croaked out, his voice hoarse.

"You didn't want to, I made you!"

"You didn't _make_ me do anything, Dean!"

"Gentlemen, please," Dr. Morgan interjected. "Nobody is in trouble. I just want to hear what occurred. Please continue, Dean."

Dean glanced at both men hesitantly before continuing.

"Well… we went for a ride… we talked…" His voice trailed off. He didn't want to talk about the rest.

Dr. Morgan could see his reluctance. "What did you talk about?"

Dean swallowed nervously.

"My… my dream… us sticking together…"

"Tell me about the dream, Dean."

Dean shook his head emphatically despite the pain the motion caused. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because…" He squeezed his eyes shut. "Because that's what started everything."

"It started what you saw in the road?"

Dean's stomach knotted. He reluctantly nodded.

"Tell me what you saw, Dean."

He didn't want to. The terrifying images still felt fresh in his mind. He bit his lower lip anxiously.

"Dean, if you're afraid of seeing whatever it was again, I can promise you that won't occur. That is what the medication is for. It will stop it from happening."

The suggestion that there could actually be a chance that the terrors could be prevented floored Dean. He looked at the doctor hesitantly.

"It… it will?"

"Yes. Once the drug takes full effect you should feel much less anxious and you won't have the visions that you experienced previously. I must warn you, though, you will become quite fatigued."

The promise seemed almost surreal, but Dean clung to it.

"What… what about the nightmares?"

"The medicine should help with that as well."

It almost sounded too good to be true. But Dean was desperate. Desperate for any chance of hope. He decided he had nothing else to lose. He took a deep breath.

"OK… well… I was trying to tell Sam about Hell… and how when I get these… these attacks… I dunno… it's like I'm there… like it's so fucking real… and I can't tell when it's not…"

Dr. Morgan nodded.

"And… and then I started to smell it… the sulfur… I… it was constant down there… and then I… I felt all hot… like someone cranked the furnace on full blast… and then… then I just felt panicked… cuz I knew what was coming… but I was too freaked out to tell Sam… and when I opened my eyes… I saw… _him_…"

"Saw who, Dean?"

"Alistair… he… he was in front of the car… and then when Sam took off… he started chasing us… and he kept getting closer… so I grabbed the gun we keep in the glove compartment for emergencies to try to shoot him… to slow him down… but he kept up… kept telling me… telling me he was gonna hurt Sam…"

Sam buried his face in his hands as he heard Dean's words. Dean looked at him guiltily.

"I'm sorry… I thought it was him… I was sure it was him…"

Dr. Morgan held up his hand at that point.

"It's OK, Dean. We understand why you reacted the way you did."

Dean slumped down on the couch, depressed. Dr. Morgan decided to continue.

"Dean, I want you to listen very carefully to what I have to say," The doctor took a deep breath. "I am proud of you, Dean."

The room became silently. Both brothers looked simultaneously at the doctor in shock.

"Dude," Dean said slowly, "You're proud of me because I emptied my revolver at a hallucination on a deserted road and freaking out my brother?"

Dr. Morgan couldn't help but chuckle at Dean's statement.

"Not exactly, Dean. That will be something we will discuss more later. What I am proud of you for is how you handled your craving for a drink. You remembered what we had talked about and had the courage to reach out and use your resources. And for that I am very proud of you."

Dean was speechless.

"But… but I was going to steal from you! I was going to take off and go to the liquor store and not tell anyone!"

"But did you?"

Dean hesitated. "Well… no… but…"

"Dean, a person can think anything they want. Most people think about doing numerous things that are illegal or harmful. But they do not act on these thoughts. You had an intense craving for a drink that drove you to consider acting in a way that you would normally never do. But you were able to stop yourself and consider other options and then chose to pursue those options instead. That is a big step for you, Dean. You should be very proud of yourself."

Dean swallowed hard and glanced over at Sam. Even Sam was now smiling weakly at him.

"He's right, Dean. You did do the right thing," Sam said.

Dean shifted in his seat, unused to the praise. Suddenly he felt his eyes begin to droop and he was starting to feel really tired.

"Hey… doc… I… I think that stuff is starting to work…"

Dr. Morgan nodded.

"That's fine, Dean. You need to go lie down and get some sleep."

Dean nodded and managed to get up and pad down the hallway to his room. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow.

Once Dean left the room Dr. Morgan turned and looked at Sam.

"Now, Sam, you and I need to talk."

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My God, this story just keeps going! Every time I think I'm gonna start wrapping it up more ideas pop into my head or I get suggestions and/or requests! : ) If you do have any requests for topics you want to see discussed in the therapy sessions please don't hesitate to let me know! If I can work them in I will!

And as always, please keep reviewing! It makes my day to see I've gotten reviews! : )


	38. Chapter 38

I just wanted to say a quick "thank you" to all my readers! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far and am really happy a lot of you want more! I promise that so long as there's an interest I'll keep writing! I also promise to work on the requests for the different therapy sessions I've been given. This chapter is going to be a Sam-session and I promise to give you guys another John-session soon (once I figure out what the session will be about and how to fit it in!). Thanks for reading!

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Chapter 38

Dr. Morgan looked over at Sam who was sitting silently in a nearby chair. The doctor could see the fatigue on the young man's face and the eyes red from the tears. He knew from years of experience that mental disease, especially post traumatic stress disorder, does not only cause the victim to suffer, but causes suffering for the victim's loved ones who are often powerless to know what to do. He could see Sam was become a classic case of this situation.

"Sam," Dr. Morgan said gently. "How are you feeling?"

Sam took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face.

"I… I honestly don't know," He admitted quietly.

"How about we try to discuss it?"

Sam looked up at him, hesitant.

"But… it's… it's late… I should be headed back to Bobby's…"

"Mother has already spoken to Bobby. She let him know you'll be spending the rest of the night here."

"Oh."

Silence.

"So, Sam. Tell me about how you feel about what happened tonight."

Sam swallowed hard, realizing that he really had no choice but to talk. He smiled bitterly.

"Honestly? Like hell. I… I've never seen him like that before… I mean… when he had the Ghost Sickness he was pretty bad… he'd freak out over stupid crap… but… but I could always talk him down from it… I could always make him listen…"

Sam shook his head. "But tonight… he… he was completely out of control… there was nothing I could say… he wouldn't listen… or he couldn't… I… I don't know… and it scared me… a lot… I've never seen Dean so out of control where nothing would bring him back…"

Dr. Morgan nodded. "What Dean experienced tonight was a classic symptom of his post traumatic stress disorder. He experienced a flashback which for him is completely real in every sense. He can hear it, see it, smell it, even feel it. He cannot discern the hallucination from the reality. Even with the work him and I have done together he is still in the early stages of his treatment."

Sam nodded slowly and looked at the doctor, his eyes filled with grief.

"So… can he get better?"

Dr. Morgan smiled gently and nodded.

"Dean is at a much better place tonight than he was even just a few days ago. He has been more willing to talk about what has been going on. He's more willing to participate in our sessions. He and I have developed a trust between us, something very important in order for him to feel comfortable enough to open up. He's also becoming more trusting of Castiel, and then, of course, he is renewing his trust in you."

Sam cocked his head. "He's renewing it?"

The doctor nodded. "When Dean returned from Hell he became very isolated in himself. It may not have been readily apparent. Most victims of this illness are quite capable of hiding their symptoms in the beginning. They find methods of coping and they rationalize that what they are experiencing isn't that bad and they can handle it on their own. But what begins to happen is that stress builds. It builds and builds and becomes much more difficult to contain. So their façade begins to crack with the pressure. They become more irritable. They don't sleep well. Their guard is up constantly, although considering the lives you boys lead that would be somewhat difficult to notice. And there are the personality changes. More depressed, hopeless. They begin pushing away friends and family.

"They begin doing things we refer to as negative coping. Dean has been doing it with the alcohol. I also can assume that he's been more restless than usual. Trying to stay busy constantly, never slowing down? Also, his mood can shift rapidly, happy one moment, but quick to anger the next? You may be afraid to discuss things with him because you are concerned about his reaction."

Sam stared at him, stunned.

"Wow," He said, shaking his head in astonishment. "You just described Dean to a T with everything you just said. Did… did he tell you about all that?"

"Not all of it. As I said before, many of the symptoms are classic manifestations of the disease. You must understand, though, that Dean is currently not able to control these symptoms. We removed his old coping method and now he is struggling to learn a new coping method. Tonight was the first step towards that. He had the choice to drink, but instead chose to reach out to you and talk about how he was feeling instead. That was a major step, Sam. While I know seeing Dean during one of his attacks was quite frightening for you, if you step back and look at the larger picture, we're beginning to make progress."

Sam sat quietly for a moment before nodding.

"He did actually talk to me… and usually trying to get Dean to talk is like pulling teeth… I just… I wish I knew what else I could do to help him…"

Dr. Morgan smiled. "You are already doing a great deal for him, Sam. One of the most difficult things for many friends and family of people with this illness is just being there. Most people can't handle how volatile the person can become. They become afraid of them and angry at the person for their lack of control."

Sam shook his head emphatically.

"No. No, I would never leave Dean like this. Hell, I've dealt with worse with Dad and how volatile he could be. I know Dean would never hurt me on purpose and… and I know he can't control it… he can't just get over it…"

Sam's voice trailed off and he dropped his gaze. The doctor studied him for a moment before speaking.

"Sam, have you gotten angry at Dean about his illness."

"No," Sam replied quickly, but after a moment he let out a long sigh and slowly nodded. "I… I mean… I know Dean can't control it… it's just… I don't know… I just wish he'd… you know… be normal again…"

"How was he before?"

Sam chuckled. "He was Dean. Nothing fazed him. He'd be able to keep his cool no matter what. And… he was happy. All the little stupid things in life that most people don't pay attention to… that stuff always made Dean happy… like, really happy. God, food… food always made Dean happy. And sex… that made him happy too. But stuff like his mullet rock tapes and the Magic Finger beds and hunting and getting the bad guys and saving the damsel in distress… all that made Dean happy. But now? Now it's like… like he just goes through the motions or something. I mean… there was this… girl… Anna… he hooked up with her and normally he'd be walking around proud as hell… but… he didn't… he just looked… depressed…"

Dr. Morgan nodded. "And you were raised by Dean, correct?"

Sam smiled ruefully. "Yeah… I mean… Dad was never around… Dean was always the one there for me."

"But now he's not able to be there for you… not the way he once was," Dr. Morgan replied.

Sam nodded sadly. "Yeah," He said quietly.

Dr. Morgan nodded. "What have you been going through, Sam, since this has started? I know you told me before you felt there were things going on that were beyond your control. Are things still that way?"

Sam couldn't help but flinch at the doctor's words. His mind raced as he thought about the nights he had been spending with Ruby, more frequent now that Dean wasn't with him. He swallowed hard.

"Yeah… yeah they are."

"Would you like to talk about them now? Perhaps discussing the situation would provide you with a new perspective."

Sam swallowed nervously and shifted in his chair. "I… its bad… you… you can't tell Dean… I mean… I haven't told him because… because he'd freak, you know? And… and with everything else he's dealing with… and he'd never understand…"

Dr. Morgan nodded. "Sam, anything said here will be strictly between you and I. None of it will be shared with Dean."

Sam glanced at the doctor nervously and could see the sincerity on his face. He nodded before dropping his gaze to the floor. He took a deep breath.

"Well… after Dean… you know… died… I kind of lost it… I went all over the place, trying to find someone I could make a deal with to get him back. I was suicidal… drinking like a fish… I didn't care anymore. And then… then Ruby showed up… she's… uh…well… she's a demon… but she told me that she'd help me… help me get my revenge for what happened to Dean… so… we spent every day together… and… and I know it's crazy… but she understood… and she knew how to help me… how to make my powers strong enough to fight the demons… I can actually send them back to Hell now… and I save the people whose bodies their using…"

Sam glanced at the doctor, waiting for the lecture on how demons shouldn't be trusted and how he shouldn't be using his powers. The doctor simply looked back at him, listening intently.

"No lecture?" Sam said in surprise.

"Lecture regarding what?"

"Demons are bad… you can't trust demons… she's using you… that lecture."

"Well, Sam, you already seem to know that lecture well enough so there is no sense in my repeating it. However, I am assuming there is more to this story. I take that you and this Ruby have developed a relationship during this time you have spent together?"

Sam swallowed nervously. "Yeah…"

"And what level has this relationship reached?"

Sam stared at the floor feeling his face flush. "It… it's reached a pretty… intimate… level."

Dr. Morgan nodded. "So, you are having sexual relations with this Ruby?"

Sam nodded, his face growing redder.

"Is it only the sex that you worry Dean will be angry about?"

Sam hesitated. "Well… he… he knows about that… its… it's something else…"

The doctor nodded, waiting patiently. Sam closed his eyes.

"I…" He took a deep breath. "I've been… drinking her blood."

The last part came out in a rush of words. Sam's stomach clenched as he spoke them, fearful as he hadn't told anyone his secret before. He forced himself to look up, waiting for the look of horror on the doctor's face. The look of disgust.

Dr. Morgan met his gaze calmly.

"Did you start drinking her blood immediately when you entered into this relationship with her, or did occur later?"

Sam stared at Dr. Morgan incredulously.

"Whoa! Whoa! Wait, I just told you I've been having sex with a _demon_ and now I told you I've been _drinking her blood_! And all you have to say is, _When did it start!?_"

"Should I say something else?"

"You don't think it's wrong? You don't think it's a big deal?"

Dr. Morgan sighed patiently. "Sam, please do not think I don't believe this situation is serious. I am well aware that anything involving a demon is serious. However, I need to learn all the facts before I can make any decision about how I feel about a matter. Now, how long has this been occurring?"

Sam stared at him for a moment before he could speak.

"It started about a month after Dean died," He said quietly.

The doctor nodded. "And why did it start?"

Sam swallowed, his mouth now feeling like sandpaper. "Because… it makes my powers stronger… I… I wanted to stop… the angels told Dean that I had to stop using my powers… but… they don't understand… I'm saving lives by doing this… I'm taking this… this curse I have… I'm using it to save people from demons…"

Dr. Morgan nodded carefully and leaned forward. Sam could see that the older man was thinking very hard about what he was going to say next.

"Sam… I understand why you have chosen to do what you are doing. Ruby came to you during a difficult period of your life and is still with you while you try to cope with how Dean is now. Obviously, her presence has kept you alive and has prevented you from making some poor choices that could have gotten you killed. I also understand why you want to use your powers and cannot deny that the way you are using them is definitely for the greater good."

The doctor paused for a moment until Sam met his intense gaze.

"All I will say, Sam, is that you need to think very hard about how you proceed with this situation. As you said yourself, Ruby is a demon. Demons are known to be manipulative and should only be trusted so much. I know from talking to both your father and your brother that the demons seem to have a special interest in your family. What that reason is I cannot even begin to speculate. I will not tell you to stop using your powers. I will not tell you to end your relationship with Ruby. I will not tell you to stop drinking the demon blood. None of those are my decisions to make. You must rely on your own experience and your own judgment to determine what the right course of action is."

Sam sat silently, absorbing the doctor's words. Dr. Morgan waited a minute before letting out a deep sigh. He rose to his feet and put his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"And now, Sam, I believe you should you get some rest. You've had a long night and I want you to think about the things we've discussed. I hope we can have more of these discussions in the future."

Sam nodded as he rose to his feet. He could feel the fatigue in his body and he was ready to try and get some sleep.

"Thanks, Dr. Morgan," Sam said quietly as he turned to walk down the hallway.

Dr. Morgan watched the young man walk away, his heart heavy. He shook his head sadly as he made his way back to his own bedroom.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Dr. Morgan sat at his desk in his office, the morning sunshine cascading through the windows and spilling out into the room. He was still a little tired from the early morning events, but he knew things like that were to be expected when taking cases like Dean Winchester's. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, silently thanking God for having a mother who understood him well enough to simply give him his cup of coffee and leave him alone to think without asking too many questions.

He was worried. Very worried. And, for once, it wasn't all about Dean.

The doctor hadn't been completely surprised about Dean wanting to leave the house without asking. He knew keeping the young hunter in one place for a long time would eventually wear on him. Dr. Morgan had just wondered how long that would take. Thankfully, Dean hadn't gone out alone and while the situation where he had a gun had been dangerous, no one had been injured. What the doctor had been thankful for was that it finally appeared that the discussions they had been having had finally begun to sink in. Dean was finally beginning to reach out and use the resources he had available. Now, he would have to learn how to deal with hallucinations, something Dr. Morgan intended to address later that day.

No, what had the doctor worried was Dean's brother, Sam. Their discussion last night had not been what the doctor expected, and after forty years in the field of psychiatry, it took a great deal to surprise him!

Dr. Morgan pulled out a new folder and labeled it _Winchester, Sam_. He then pulled out a piece of paper and began writing:

***

_Last evening I had the opportunity to have a discussion with Dean Winchester's brother, Sam Winchester. Sam is a 26 year old Caucasian male. He is also a Hunter, as was his father and is his brother. _

_Axis I: Substance Abuse, Substance Dependence_

_Axis II: Avoidant and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder_

_Axis III: Infected with demon's blood at age 6 months, psychic powers_

_Axis IV: Patient has suffered the death of his father and brother. Has had to deal with his own death and resurrection. Is a Hunter. Currently coping with his brother who was resurrected and now suffering from PSTD and alcohol abuse. Current companion is a demon who is encouraging him into the act of drinking demon blood. Has had suicidal ideations in the past as well as depression._

_Axis V: 52_

_I have met with Sam briefly in the past to discuss his brother. During that interview Sam had alluded to secrets he had been keeping from Dean that would upset his brother and Sam was suffering a great deal of guilt over. All the information I was able to obtain from Sam was that Sam has been feeling a great deal of guilt over the situation and while he acknowledged the things he was doing may be wrong, he was powerless to stop it._

_It was during a conversation I had with him early this morning; however, that Sam finally confessed the truth to me. Sam has been engaging in the act of drinking demon blood and engaging in sexual relations with a demon, Ruby._

_To say that this situation concerns me would indeed be a vast understatement. I am not aware of the effects of drinking demon blood, although Sam explained that he did it because it helps make his psychic powers more powerful. He has been using these powers to remove demons from the victims they possess. _

_I will not deny Sam is trying to do good with the situation he has been given. It is in fact a noble thing to try to save victims this way. My concern, though, is with the demon. I have yet to hear an encounter with a demon that has ended positively. Demons are quite skilled in manipulating their victims into doing what they want, despite the human's better judgment. I fear this is the case for Sam._

_I admit I had a great deal of difficulty maintaining a professional decorum and not insisting to Sam that he must immediately put an end to these actions. During the time John Winchester, Sam's father, was my patient I learned a great deal about Sam as well as his brother. This family has suffered greatly at the hands of demons and it saddens me to see it continue despite John's efforts to end it. I do know, however, that any attempt to dissuade Sam from continuing his activities would only serve to alienate him. Sadly, Sam will view any suggestions as an attack on himself and that will only cause him to continue his activities more aggressively. _

_At this present point in time Sam requires support and direction. He needs to be aware of his support system and be willing to use it. _

_Also, as much as I want to discuss this matter with Dean, my vow of confidentiality prevents me from doing so. My goal is for Sam to discuss this with Dean by his own volition. I am very concerned, however, how this may affect the progress Dean has made and his trust with his brother. This is a very delicate matter for both patients._

***

Dr. Morgan looked over his notes and sighed wearily. Despite his many years of practice he couldn't help feeling woefully unprepared to deal with a case of this magnitude as its outcome had vast implications for all of mankind. But as he set down his pen and closed the folder he decided, in the end, only one thing really mattered. He had two ordinary young men that were under his care that had been dealt a very unordinary deal. All that mattered to those two men was that they get better and be able to be the brothers they once were. And that, the doctor decided, was all that he would concern himself with.

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Hi, guys! So I hope you don't mind the direction I decided to take the story in. I've had a few of you say that you think Sam needs some therapy too so here it comes! But don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Dean and the stuff he needs to deal with! Plus, I'll be throwing in some more flashbacks of John sessions as well. Any requests for what you'd like to see John talk about feel free to send my way! I haven't had any ideas I like yet so suggestions (as you all well know) are very very helpful!

On a side note, I normally _hate_ writing stories that don't follow the show's storyline almost religiously, but the ideas for what I could do with Sam just came flooding in and I just couldn't pass it up! I'll try to make it worth it!

Thanks for reading! : )


	40. Chapter 40

Hey! Look what I found! Remember this story? Lol! Yup. Back to work on it at the request of my dear little Aussie! Enjoy! : )

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Chapter 40

Sam scrubbed his hand over his face as he made his way down the hallway. He poked his head into Dean's room and saw that his brother was still sound asleep. He briefly considered waking Dean up to at least say good-bye, but decided against it. He decided Dean needed the sleep more. Besides, he could always call later to check on him. He continued on to the living room where his jacket was slung over the back of a chair. He was starting to pick it up when Dr. Morgan's mother came into the room.

"Ah! Good morning, dear. How are you feeling?" Doris said cheerfully.

Sam looked at her in surprise, not really expecting anyone to be around. "Oh… um… fine, thanks."

"Good," she said smiling as she pated his arm. "Why don't you come to the kitchen with me? I have a nice hot breakfast ready!"

Sam felt his cheeks flush, not used to the attention. "Oh, I don't want you to go through any trouble for me-"

Doris gave a dismissive wave of her hand as she began leading him to the kitchen. "Nonsense! A young man like you needs to make sure he has a good breakfast every morning! Now, I won't hear another word! You sit right there and let me get you something to eat!"

Sam allowed himself to be led to the kitchen; not really comfortable arguing with a little old lady that barely seemed to reach the top of his chest. Within minutes she slid a plate in front of him, heaped with a pile of steaming French toast and bacon. Sam could feel his mouth begin to water. He realized at that moment how long it had been since he had let himself eat a really good breakfast. He quickly dug into the food, relishing how good it was compared to some of the lousy diners he and Dean usually frequented. Doris merely smiled as she set a cup of coffee next to him and sat down in another chair with her food.

"How is it, Sam?" she asked as she took a sip of her coffee.

"This is amazing," Sam sighed enthusiastically. "This is a lot better then what we usually eat."

"You and your brother travel a lot then?"

Sam hesitated a moment. He really didn't know Doris all that well and he wasn't sure what she knew about them. Doris noticed his hesitation and chuckled.

"It's alright, Sam. I know the line of work you're in. Dealing with things that are more… supernatural in nature," she said gently.

Sam felt a rush of relief. He never truly felt comfortable lying about the work he and Dean did, not matter how important it was that they did lie about it.

"Yeah," Sam said with a weak smile. "We definitely travel a lot!"

"That must be interesting for you. You must have seen some exciting places."

"Well… yeah… although usually the parts we see of it are the cemeteries and motels," Sam admitted ruefully.

Doris laughed. "Ah, yes! That does seem to be the case for you hunters, doesn't it?"

Sam chuckled and nodded as he reached for his coffee. When he lifted it to his lips he noticed his hand that was holding the cup begin to tremble. He nervously set it back down, hoping Doris hadn't noticed. It had been over a week since he had last had any demon's blood, retaliation on Ruby's part for his refusal to go with her anywhere until Dean was doing better. He was now beginning to suffer from the effects of withdrawal from it. He was becoming more anxious and restless lately, not able to sit still for very long. The tremors had been mild at first, but were becoming more severe. He was usually able distract himself by worrying about Dean, but that was becoming increasingly difficult to do. He cleared his throat nervously and tried to focus on the food.

Doris watched him quietly for a few minutes while she ate her food. Finally, she cleared her throat.

"Sam? May I ask you a bit of a personal question, dear?"

Sam looked up at her in surprise. "Uh… sure."

She leaned forward in her chair and lowered her voice.

"May I ask what drug you are withdrawing from?"

The question absolutely floored Sam. He stared at her dumbfounded and opened and closed his mouth several times, too shocked to speak.

"Wha- what?" he managed to stammer out.

Doris looked at him calmly. "I may be wrong; I have thought you're experiencing withdrawals from something. Am I correct?"

Sam felt his heart thunder in his chest. "How… how can you tell?"

"I worked as a psych nurse for forty-five years," Doris replied. "I have seen basically every type of detoxification there is. Now, I haven't been able to quite pinpoint yours yet. Whatever it is, you've been hiding it well. Would you like to talk about it, Sam?"

Sam's gaze instantly dropped and his shoulders sagged. A wave of guilt and embarrassment came over him as he began pushing his food around his plate.

"I… I shouldn't be worried about me… Dean's the one that needs help," Sam said lamely.

"Sam," Doris said gently as she covered one of his hands with her own. "Both of you boys have gone through a great deal in your lives. Just because Dean has gone through more severe episodes doesn't mean he's the only one that needs help. You've suffered, too, dear. You deserve to ask for help just as much as your brother. There's nothing shameful about that."

Sam was quiet for a moment as he absorbed Doris's words. Finally, he closed his eyes and sighed.

"You're going to think I'm a monster."

"No I won't, Sam."

"You don't know that."

"Sam, I've seen plenty of monsters in my days. I can tell just by sitting here and talking to you that you are _not_ a monster. You're a young man struggling to cope with a great deal. You can tell me anything. I promise I will not judge you."

Sam desperately wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that there was someone actually out there who didn't think he was the monster he often felt like. He rested his head on his hands, not wanting to see her face when he told her the truth.

"It's… it's demon blood," Sam finally managed to get out.

He waited for the gasp of horror. The lecture. But just like Dr. Morgan, there was none of that.

"What do you experience when you take demon blood?" Doris asked calmly.

Part of him wanted to yell at her, demand a reason as to why she could remain so calm when he had just told her that he was drinking _demon blood!_ But when he finally looked up at her he noticed her expression was that of someone who really had seen just about everything. That as insane as what he had just told her was, she really had heard worse somehow.

"You really have seen a lot then, if that doesn't shock you," Sam said quietly.

Doris let out a sigh. She took a sip of coffee before she looked back up at Sam.

"Sam, when I was a young nurse I worked in a special psych ward for the criminally insane," she said calmly. "It was during that time I met a gentleman named Bill. Bill was arrested for desecrating graves and corpses. He had been accused of kidnapping and murder on five counts. He was deemed insane because all he would go on about were the demons that were out for him. That he had made a deal and the demons would be coming to collect him in less than a year."

Doris shook her head, the look in her eyes was one of sadness as she recalled the events of so many years ago.

"I'll never forget it. Once we were able to subdue him enough to change him into one of our uniforms I saw the things he had done to himself. The man had actually carved these symbols into his flesh. Strange symbols I had never seen before. Later on, he somehow decided he felt comfortable enough to confide in me. He told me how he was a hunter and hunted the supernatural. He had become one almost ten years earlier after his encounter with a demon. He said he had made a deal with the demon to save his dying young son. Sold his soul in so that his son would live. And his son survived the illness… only to be killed in a car accident a year later."

Doris shook her head sadly.

"He felt cheated by the demon. So he devoted the rest of his life to fighting them and the other monsters out there. But then we he realized he only had a year left he began to panic, understandably. Tried everything he could think of to save himself, including the symbols he had given himself. He told me some of the things he had done, some of them truly horrific, things no one should ever even consider doing."

"But it didn't work," Sam said quietly.

Doris shook her head. "I'll never forget that night… he had been in our facility for about four months. I was working the night shift and I was making my rounds when suddenly I heard him start screaming… now, I've heard mad men scream before, Sam… it's something that you get used to in that line of work… but his screams… never have I heard such sheer terror in a man's voice before…"

She took another sip of coffee, her eyes staring off into the distance as she recalled that night.

"I got to his room and looked in the window… I will never forget what I saw…"

Her voice faded, but Sam already knew.

"He was getting ripped apart…" Sam said quietly. "But you couldn't see what was doing it."

Doris looked back at him, suddenly seeing again for the first time since she started her story.

"It was at that moment I realized everything he had told me was true. The proof was right before my eyes. And it horrified me. It changed me…" she clutched her coffee cup tightly in her hands. "I would have fallen apart if I could have. But I was a widow… a young, single mother to a little boy. I had to keep it together for him."

She reached over again and took Sam's hand while looking into his eyes.

"You have seen some terrible things, Sam Winchester. I don't even know all of the things you've seen, but I can imagine. I don't know why you are drinking the demon blood… I can only imagine what its effects are on you… but I just want you to know that you are not alone. You are not the first person to go down such a path. And Leo and I both are here to help you if you want it."

Sam dropped his gaze and felt his throat constrict. He didn't know what to say or how to respond. Tears filled his eyes and he forced himself to pull his hand away.

"I… I need to go…" Sam whispered as he rose to his feet.

Doris nodded as he walked away. He didn't turn around as he grabbed his jacket and went out the front door. He hadn't realized she had followed him until he heard her call to him from the front porch.

"Sam!"

He stopped next to the Impala, but couldn't bring himself to turn around.

"Sam, the door is always open here if you need us. Just remember that."

The tears he had been fighting against so hard finally escaped. He gave a quick nod to acknowledge that he had heard her before climbing into the car and slamming the door closed. He peeled out of the driveway with Doris watching him go.

* * *

So trying to get back into the groove of the story. Hope I did OK! : )

So I will definitely be needing your feedback since it's been so dang long that I've forgotten a good majority of my ideas! Well, except for how I'm going to end it, but I know y'all don't want to hear that right now! ; )

So click on that little Review button down there and start sending your requests and ideas!


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Dean woke up and groggily looked around the room. He felt like he was hungover, minus the feeling of wanting to puke. He climbed out of bed and blearily padded down the hallway to the bathroom where he splashed some cold water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up. His head throbbed with a dull ache and he recalled that it was the spot Sam had hit him.

After completing his morning routine in the bathroom he went into the kitchen to find Doris and Dr. Morgan sitting at the table reading the paper. They looked up as Dean entered.

"Good afternoon, Dean," Dr. Morgan said pleasantly. "How are you feeling?"

"Afternoon?" Dean said with a frown. He looked up at the clock and was surprised to see it read 1:20 in the afternoon. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't mean to sleep so late."

"That's alright," the doctor replied with a friendly smile. "It's not usual for the medications you took to make you sleepier than normal."

Dean nodded as he sat down at the table. In seconds Doris set a plate of food in front of him which he quickly dived in to.

"Did Sam leave?" Dean asked around a mouthful of food.

Dr. Morgan nodded. "He left earlier this morning. He didn't want to disturb you."

"Yeah, probably wanted to go hang out with Ruby," Dean said before he could stop himself. He inwardly winced at the harshness of his words.

Dr. Morgan looked at him carefully. "Why would you say that, Dean?"

Dean tried to think of something to say that would cover up what he was feeling. Something to take the sting out of his words. Unfortunately, he was still feeling fuzzy from the medication and still feeling like a bit of an ass for everything that had happened the previous night.

"Never mind. I shouldn't have said that."

"Dean, don't dismiss your feelings. You obviously have something on your mind."

"I don't. Really. I'm just being a dick."

Dr. Morgan smiled gently. "For some reason I doubt that. But let's talk about it. Tell me a little about Sam and Ruby."

Dean groaned. "Seriously? It's too early to be talking about that bitch."

"I take it from your tone you don't care for her."

Dean rolled his eyes. "That's the understatement of the century. She's a demon. Only tolerate her because she saved Sam's life while I was gone."

"How does Sam feel about her?"

Dean smirked bitterly. "He thinks she's the greatest thing since sliced bread. Thinks she's helping us save the seals and helping him with his powers."

"And what do you think about that?"

Dean sat at the table quietly for a moment, thinking about the doctor's question.

"I don't like it," he finally said quietly. "I mean, I get it. She kept him from doing some really stupid crap and saved his ass a few times. She's helped us out a few times, before and after I came back."

He shook his head and closed his eyes.

"There's just something about her. And it's not just that she's a demon… or maybe it is… maybe it's because I can still feel the evil that's inside of her…"

Dean dropped his fork on the plate and opened his eyes. He looked up at Dr. Morgan, his face solemn.

"I just… she's evil… every gut instinct I have is screaming at me that the bitch is evil. That she's playing some game that Sam and I don't know about. I just feel like she's screwing with Sam's head somehow… she's got something on him… I mean, at first I thought it was the sex… that Sam thought he was in love with her or something because she saved him and then he slept with her… a lot… but the more I think about it the more I can't help but think that's not it… that's just not how Sammy rolls… he's always been the smart one… always the logical one… hell, of either of us he should be the one who should be able to see right through her game… he's the sane one!" He flashed a bitter smile at that statement that quickly faded. "He's just… different now…"

His voice faded and his gaze dropped down to his half-finished plate of food. Dr. Morgan waited a few moments before speaking again.

"Do you feel like this Ruby is harming your relationship with Sam?"

Dean shrugged, not looking up. "I think I've managed to screw up our relationship enough on my own. I'm sure Ruby just enjoying the extra time she's getting with him."

Dean glanced up at the doctor and noticed something immediately. Dean had become an expert at reading people during his years as a hunter and during his sessions with Dr. Morgan he had gotten used to the doctor's regular expressions. The doctor always appeared calm, devoid of any emotion other than compassion. But at that exact moment Dean saw a look in Dr. Morgan's eye that Dean knew well. A look that said the doctor knew something. That he knew something big that he wasn't sharing. Dean's eyes narrowed.

"What?"

Dr. Morgan frowned and cocked his head in confusion. "I'm sorry, Dean?"

"You know something," Dean stated firmly. "You know what's going on with Sam and Ruby."

Dr. Morgan sighed patiently. "Dean, I cannot discuss that with you."

Dean sat up straighter, anger building up inside of him. "What the hell do you mean you can't discuss it with me? This is my brother!"

"Sam told me some things in confidence. I cannot divulge our discussion, just like I cannot tell him anything you have told me."

Dean clenched his hands into fists under the table. "That's bullshit, doc! This is Sam's life we're talking about! If that bitch is doing something to him that's going to hurt him I need to know!"

"Dean," Dr. Morgan slid his chair back from the table while keeping his eyes locked firmly onto Dean's. His voice remained calm, but firm. "You need to lower your voice and calm down. We cannot continue this discussion if it's going to agitate you like this."

Any other time Dean could control himself. Any other time he could check his emotions, acknowledge that the doctor was right, and change the subject. But he was tired. He was still upset over everything that had happened last night. And now this guy knew something about Sam that Dean didn't know, something obviously important, but the son of a bitch wasn't going to tell him. Dean stood up quickly, sending his chair skittering back against the floor and crashing into the wall.

"I am pissed!" Dean roared furiously. "You have no fucking idea what's at stake here, doc! No fucking clue!"

Dr. Morgan slowly rose from his chair and moved himself in between Dean and the door.

"Tell me why you're getting upset, Dean."

"You son of a bitch," Dean growled. All sense of reason had left him at this point. "You're letting my brother get fucked around by some demon bitch and you're not letting me help him because of 'confidentiality?!' FUCK YOU!!! Fuck you and fuck your stupid rules, you dick! You have no idea what it's been like for me! It's my fucking job to protect him! MINE!!! I'm the only one who can! Your fucking psycho-babble isn't going to save him from demon, doc! You have no idea what they can do to him! What they've planned on doing with him! Hell, they still probably want him for something! I'm the only one who fucking gives a shit about him enough to keep him safe!"

Dr. Morgan stood there quietly, not saying anything to Dean's rant, infuriating Dean more.

"What!? Come on! Don't you have something to say? Don't you have some smartass psycho-babble to give me? You don't, do you? Because don't have a _fucking_ clue what you're dealing with."

Dean grabbed his plate off the table and flung it against the wall, shattering the dish into large shards of sharp ceramic and splattering the remains of his food onto the wall. Dr. Morgan remained unfazed by Dean's actions however.

"Dean, you can yell at me and express your anger all you would like verbally to me, but I must ask that you please do not break anything else in my kitchen."

The doctor's calmness infuriated Dean even more. He wanted a reaction. He _needed_ a reaction. He needed someone to yell back at him. To fight him.

"You fucking piece of shit!" Dean yelled as he got into Dr. Morgan's face. "Make me stop you fucking old prick! Come on! Come on and make me!"

Dr. Morgan didn't flinch. He looked calmly into Dean's eyes.

"I'm not going to fight with you, Dean. You need to calm yourself down. You have resources available if you need help."

Angry tears filled Dean's eyes and he shook his head furiously, not getting the response he wanted.

"FUCK YOU! Come on!" He pushed Dr. Morgan in the chest, causing the man to stumble back a step. "Come on and do something! I don't want your fucking drugs! I don't want to fucking talk! I am sick and tired of sitting around in these god damn hospitals and your fucking house doing _nothing!_ I'm still a fucking nutcase! The only way I don't see or hear shit that's not there is by taking your fucking drugs! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of feeling like shit all the time! I'm sick of being worthless! I'm not doing a god damn thing here! I should have died! Cas should have let me blow my fucking head off! Instead he has to look and me and be sorry he ever pulled my sorry ass out of Hell!"

Hot angry tears rolled down his cheeks while Dr. Morgan looked back at him calmly. Dean shook his head; the rage that had built up inside of him finally reached its peak.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH, DO SOMETHING!!!" Dean screamed as he swung his fist at the doctor.

Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed his wrist, stopping it from reaching Dr. Morgan. Dean found himself being flung back into the wall and being pinned there. He managed to twist his head around far enough to see Castiel holding him in place. He struggled against the angel's hold, but it was pointless.

"Stop it, Dean," Castiel commanded his voice firm.

Dean continued to try and fight. "Let me go, you feathered fuck! Get the fuck off of me!"

"I will not let you strike Dr. Morgan and you are upsetting Doris!"

"Fuck you!"

"Enough of this."

Castiel wrapped both arms around Dean and began dragging him through the kitchen and out to the back door.

"We'll be back momentarily," Castiel announced to Dr. Morgan. With a quick flick of his wrist he flung the door opened and dragged Dean out while Dean continued to try and fight him. The door slammed shut behind them after they were out.

Dr. Morgan closed his eyes and finally let out the breath he had been holding. He felt Doris come over and gently put her hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright, dear?" she asked with concern.

He smiled weakly at her and nodded.

"I'm fine, Mother. It's just never easy when they reach this point. I admit I had almost hoped we'd get to skip over this."

Doris snorted. "After what you told me about their father? Ha! You should have known better than that."

He let out a chuckle as he wiped his brow and followed her out of the kitchen.

* * *

Oh that was just FUN! I had forgotten just how awesomely fun writing Dean-angst can be. And now I'm getting back into my groove cuz I now actually know what the next chapter is gonna be! Oh yeah! I'm back! : )

Thank you all for the wonderful feedback! It has been a HUGE help! Please, keep it coming!


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Castiel dragged Dean across the yard effortlessly as though Dean was nothing more than an impudent 3 year-old throwing a tantrum. Dean struggled to free himself from the angel's vice-like grip with no success. Finally, Castiel reached the tree where Dean liked to sit and deposited the hunter unceremoniously on the group. Furious, Dean struggled to his feet and got in Castiel's face.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Cas?!" Dean roared furiously, his hands balled up into fists at his sides.

Castiel glared back at him, not backing down from Dean's rage. "And what are you doing, Dean? You could have hurt Dr. Morgan."

"That son of a bitch knows something about Sam and that bitch Ruby! Sam's told him something and I wanna know what it is!"

"If the doctor deems it important enough for you to know he will tell you!"

Dean felt like he was going to explode with rage. He grabbed Castiel by the lapels of his coat and pulled him in closer.

"Sam's my brother! I fucking deserve to know! You don't know a fucking thing about it! You or Doc!"

Castiel didn't flinch. "Yell at me all you want, Dean. You are wrong for what you did. I will not side with you in this."

Dean's eyes narrowed further before he swung, hitting Castiel across the face with a solid punch. The blow didn't even appear to harm the angel. Castiel barely moved.

"Hit me all you want if that is what it will take to make you stop this nonsense."

Castiel's words opened the floodgates of Dean's emotions. Letting out a scream of rage Dean began pounding furiously on Castiel, using every ounce of strength he had. He wanted to fight. He wanted to hurt something. Anything. Even if it was Castiel, the angel who had pulled him from Hell and had become his friend. He didn't care anymore. He felt trapped and angry and grief-stricken and completely insane. He managed to knock Castiel to the ground as he hit him, growing more frustrated that Castiel wasn't fighting back

"God damn it, Cas!!!" Dean roared. "Hit me! Hit me back you fuck! Fight back!"

"I won't hit you, Dean," Castiel managed to ground out.

"GOD DAMN IT!!! FIGHT BACK!!!"

"NO!"

"HIT ME!"

"NO!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Dean continued to pound furiously on the angel, but his blows began to weaken, exhaustion beginning to overwhelm him. "Fucking coward!"

"You are not being rational, Dean!"

Dean let out a frustrated yell and gave Castiel a shove before pulling away from him and staggering to his feet. Castiel watched him, not moving from where he was lying on the ground. Dean paced furiously in front of him, running his hands frantically through his hair.

"You're all fucking against me! That's what this is! You're fucking against me and Sam!"

Castiel frowned in confusion at him. "What are you talking about?"

Dean whirled around to face him, pointing accusingly at the house.

"Dr. Morgan is against me! He's just keeping me here, saying he's 'helping' me, but yet he won't tell me about Sam! And Granny is in on it! She acts all nice and everything, but she's just doing it to keep me here! And I bet Bobby is even in on it! They've probably told him all sorts of stuff so he thinks I need to stay here!"

Castiel stared at Dean, completely flabbergasted before rising to his feet.

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, Dean! Dr. Morgan and Doris are two of the few people who fully comprehend what is going on here and are doing everything they can to help you! You are just too irrational to see that!"

"Oh yeah? Is that right?"

"Yes, that is right!"

Dean pointed accusingly at Castiel. "And what about you? Why the hell should I believe anything you say? You said you'd stay! You said you'd be there if I needed you! So where the fuck were you last night, huh!? You weren't fucking there! You left me! You left me and I fucking went off the deep end and I could have killed someone!"

Dean saw the angel stiffen as his words struck home.

"You don't know what went on last night for me, Dean."

Dean stepped in closer, his eyes full of defiance.

"No, Cas, I don't! So why don't you fill me in? What the hell was so God damn important that you decided you could break your word and ditch me! What the fuck was such a big deal?"

He saw Castiel clench and unclench his fists and Dean briefly wondered if he had finally managed to push Castiel too far. Instead, Castiel looked fiercely at Dean and his voice lowered.

"I was forced to leave you last night because my superiors were not satisfied at the speed of your recovery. With the questions they've had about my faith and how things have progressed with you they decided they should take matters into their own hands. They had intended on replacing me."

It was as though Castiel's words had been like a punch in Dean's gut. The hunter froze, his mouth opening and closing, not knowing what to say.

"What?" Dean finally managed to rasp out.

Castiel sighed as he realized he had finally managed to get through somewhat to Dean.

"I was to be reassigned. But I defended my position, explaining to them that I was the only one you had any form of trust in and you would not comply with anything the other angels asked of you if I left. The discussion was long and it took a great deal of time to convince them to allow me to stay with you. The final decision to allow me to remain here was reluctantly made and even now they are watching closely to see what happens. I'm sure your actions now have them questioning their verdict."

Dean's eyes dropped to the ground and Castiel could see the fight leaving him. Dean swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

"Oh," he finally said quietly.

Castiel stepped closer, watching Dean intently.

"I promised you that I would not leave you if that was what you wanted. Do you want me to stay?"

Dean didn't look up, but nodded slowly. Castiel gave a small nod.

"Then you understand that I am here to help you? That you need to trust me in some capacity?"

Dean swallowed hard and nodded again.

"And do you understand that I am allowing Dr. Morgan to provide you with care because I feel he is able to help you?"

Dean hesitated. "But he knows something about Sam…" he said lamely.

"If he says you don't need to know then you don't need to know. And as it stands, you are in no condition to help your brother, even if there was something wrong."

Castiel's words rang true and Dean knew the angel was right, even though he was loathed to admit it. He nodded again reluctantly, the adrenaline from his anger having fully dissipated and leaving him drained and exhausted. Castiel nodded thoughtfully, seeing that Dean had finally calmed down.

"Very well. And now we'll go back and you can apologize for your actions."

* * *

Sorry it's taken me so long to update! Brain has NOT wanted to stay focused long enough for me to write updates for _any_ of my stories! *_facepalm_*

Do keep the feedback coming, though! It does keep me motivated to keep at it! : )


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Dean followed Castiel back into the house, his head hanging low. Now that his anger had time to dissipate Dean was able to see how completely foolish his actions had been and how ridiculous his accusations had been. Yes, he was still upset that Dr. Morgan wouldn't tell him what Sam had confessed, but he did silently acknowledge that the doctor had to have a reason for it.

When they arrived back inside they found Dr. Morgan and Doris sitting in the living room, watching TV. They both looked up as Dean and Castiel walked in.

"Everything alright now?" Dr. Morgan asked calmly as his gaze shifted from Castiel to Dean.

"Yes," Castiel calmly replied. "Dean and I… spoke."

"Yeah," Dean replied, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I… uh… I kind of overreacted… sorry about… you know… all that stuff I did… and said..."

Dr. Morgan stood up and walked over to Dean. Patting Dean's shoulder he smiled gently.

"Thank you for the apology, Dean. Perhaps if you don't mind, then, you could clean up the mess you left in the kitchen before we meet for our session. I think Mother would appreciate that."

"Oh," Dean said, shooting a glance over at Doris who smiled kindly back at him. "Uh, yeah. No problem."

He quickly turned and went into the kitchen, finding it awkward to have to stand there under the stares of the doctor and his mother. Dean quickly went to work cleaning up the mess, trying not to think about the conversation that was coming with Dr. Morgan. He had no idea what he was going to say or how to excuse his actions. He threw the shards of broken plate into the garbage can, trying to work out a story that would appease the doctor.

But when Dean sat down on the couch ten minutes later in Dr. Morgan's office his perfectly crafted excuse flew right out the window.

"Well, Dean," Dr. Morgan said quietly. "The last 24 hours has been difficult for you."

Dean averted his eyes and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"I want to talk about what happened last night, but I think right now it's more important if we talked about the events that took place this morning."

Dean swallowed hard. "Look, I meant it when I said I was sorry-"

Dr. Morgan held up his hand to stop Dean.

"I understand you're sorry, Dean. And I accept your apology. But I believe there are some issues that you and I need to discuss so that we have an understanding of each other. The first issue being the discussion I had with your brother."

He leaned back in his seat and looked pointedly at Dean.

"Why do you think I'm not telling you what Sam said to me?"

The question caught Dean off-guard. He frowned in confusion before shrugging.

"I don't know. Maybe because you don't understand why I should know," Dean replied. He decided to be honest in his response since that seemed to be what the doctor was looking for.

Dr. Morgan nodded thoughtfully. "I believe I understand why you feel that way. My understanding of the relationship between you and your brother is based strictly on what you have told me. I'm sure it must be quite concerning to not know what problems your brother is dealing with and not allowing you to help him. However, Dean, that is not my reason for not telling you."

"It's not?"

Dr. Morgan shook his head. "No, it's not."

He folded his hands in his lap and leaned forward towards Dean. "Tell me, Dean, how would you feel if I shared with Sam the things you have told me in our sessions together? Private things, such as your feelings about when he left for Stanford?"

Dean felt like he had been punched in the gut. He swallowed hard.

"You said that stuff was just between you and me."

Dr. Morgan nodded. "Yes, I did. But say Sam had said to me that it was his right to know the things you said to me during our sessions because he is your brother."

Dean could see where this was going. "But it's still private."

"And just like my conversations with you are private, so are the conversations I have with Sam. You cannot build trust if you have to worry about things you would rather keep private are being told to others, even if the others are trusted family members. Just as I have worked to establish your trust, I am working to do the same for Sam. Now, that's not to say I'm not concerned about your brother and the demon girl. I am very much. But Sam is not at the right stage to fully accept the help and advice I offer him. He needs to be able to trust me and, in order to do that, there are things I cannot tell you about. As it is, I think it would be better if you and Sam share these things face-to-face, and not through me. Does that make sense, Dean?"

Dean slowly nodded, unable to argue. "I get it. I don't like it, but I get it."

Dr. Morgan smiled sadly. "And it is very reasonable to feel that way. And as I said before, my hope is that Sam will be the one to share his problems with you, just as I want you to be able to share your problems with him. You are each other's support system while you are hunting and you need to be able to work through your problems together."

He paused for a minute, allowing Dean to absorb his words. Finally, he gave a quick nod.

"Now, there is another thing I wish to talk to you about. I want to know how you think your therapy is progressing."

Dean frowned and shrugged. "I dunno. OK, I guess."

"This morning you said that you felt like you've only been sitting around in the hospital and here doing nothing. That you no longer wanted to talk or take any medications."

Dean flinched at the bluntness of Dr. Morgan's words.

"Look, I was pissed when I said all that. I didn't mean it," Dean protested.

Dr. Morgan looked at Dean knowingly.

"I've found in my experience that people tend to be more honest about how they're feeling when they are angry. People are more likely to express their feelings when they lose the compulsion to hold back.

He chuckled at the hesitant look on Dean's face.

"Relax, Dean. I'm not asking you this to put you on the spot. I'm asking you this because you are the most important factor in your treatment. If you don't feel like therapy is working for you I need to know. By telling me what is working and what isn't I can make adjustments and make improvements. You can be honest."

Dean studied the doctor's expression carefully before deciding that he was being truthfully. Dean nervously moistened his lips and averted his gaze as he spoke.

"It's just… I mean, I don't know what exactly you expect to be able to do for me, Doc. And the pills you gave me worked fine and all, but what am I supposed to do when I run out? At least with the alcohol I know where I can get some and I don't need some doctor to get it for me. I just can't see how this is gonna help me in the long run."

Dr. Morgan nodded thoughtfully at Dean's words. "You are absolutely correct, Dean. Typically for my patients I would prescribe them a medication regime to help control their symptoms; however, with your lifestyle long-term medication use is not practical or feasible."

Dean frowned. "So… why the hell are you giving me drugs?"

"The medications I'm giving you are for temporary use only. My goal is to be able to treat you cognitively."

Dean stared at the doctor, his frown deepening. "Treat me how?"

Dr. Morgan chuckled. "Cognitively. That is where I help you identify and change any dysfunctional thinking, behavior, and emotional responses."

"Dysfunctional, huh? Christ, you've got your work cut out for you there!" Dean snickered as he leaned back on the couch. "Sam and I are the poster kids for dysfunctional!"

Dr. Morgan chuckled. "Yes, well, you and your brother have both displayed some… dysfunctional behaviors."

"So you think you can actually fix me? Just with this… cognitive stuff? No drugs or anything?"

"I would like to continue the medications for a period of time. Until you are able to control your more severe symptoms on your own, you will need the medications to help you learn the methods to help keep you in control. Does that make sense, Dean?"

Dean absorbed the doctor's words for a moment before finally nodding slowly.

"So… I still need the drugs until I can handle the hallucinations and the freaking out on my own."

Dr. Morgan nodded silently. Dean sat quietly for a little longer before letting out a deep sigh.

"Alright. So what do I need to do?"

* * *

Yay! Trying to haul my butt back in the saddle. Been a bit preoccupied the last few months (for anyone who would like to know why go ahead and check out my profile for the details!), so my writing got stuck on the backburner. With the new episodes giving me a TON more material to work with I figured I really should get back to work on this, not to mention that this was originally set in Season 4 and we're already halfway through Season 5! Lol! So thanks for sticking with me and I promise to try to write more!


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

**February 18, 1999**

A drunk, haggard-appearing John Winchester stood in front of Dr. Morgan's front door. The doctor knew immediately by the man's expression that something was different. John's eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, his face sported at least a week worth of growth.

Wordlessly, Dr. Morgan stepped aside and gestured for John to enter. John gave him a quick nod and staggered down the hallway to the office. Once John was safely on the couch Dr. Morgan pulled up his chair next to him.

"What brings you here-?"

"I'm such a fool…" John suddenly blurted out, fresh tears welling up in his eyes as he shook his head. "It's my fault…"

Dr. Morgan started, not prepared for this new side to John.

"What's your fault, John?"

John shook his head and struggled to speak.

"Mary," he finally choked out. "It's all my fault she's gone. My fault she's dead. I should have known the truth… I should have made her tell me the truth…"

The doctor took a deep breath. They had been meeting for some time now, sporadically of course, but never had John been willing to discuss his late wife and the circumstances of her death. The attempts at such discussions had always been met with deflection, changes in subject, or a very pissed off hunter storming out the door. Dr. Morgan knew that he was going to have to tread delicately if he wanted to make any progress.

"John... what exactly do you mean? I don't understand."

John wiped his eyes and pulled out a small silver flask. Dr. Morgan said nothing while the hunter took a long swig from it. Any other time he would never allow his patient to drink alcohol during a session, but then, John Winchester was no ordinary patient, nor was this any ordinary session.

John remained silent, suddenly focused on the flask in his hand, as if he could see the truth in its reflective surface. Dr. Morgan took a deep breath and decided to press the man further.

"John… why don't we go back a bit… back to when you first met Mary… how about we start there?"

A faint smile touched John's lips as he roughly wiped away the tears. He took another drink and sadly shook his head.

"Mary… she was so beautiful when I first saw her…"

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen… it was a week before my eighteenth birthday… I had finished boot camp… was getting ready to be shipped over to 'Nam… one of my buddies was having a party… figured I'd have one last hurrah before I left…

"And… there she was… I had never seen such a beautiful girl in my whole life… and confident… damn… used every line on her… everything that made all the other girls fall all over me… but not Mary… didn't even phase her…"

He paused as he took another drink, his eyes staring unseeingly at the flask in his hand. Dr. Morgan remained silent, listening intently.

"But I finally convinced her to go on a date with me… and before I went overseas she promised to write me… and… and she did… almost every damn day… and she waited for me… as soon as I got back home we got together… and I knew then… I knew she was the one…"

His voice faded and he lowered his head. His faint smile turned into a look of grief.

"But… there was something wrong… her father…"

John fell silent, staring blankly at a spot on the floor. Dr. Morgan took a deep breath.

"John, what about Mary's father?"

"He hated me," John said quietly, shaking his head. "I thought… I thought it was because I was a military guy… that I wasn't good enough for her… I just… if I had only know the truth…"

"And what was the truth?"

John let out a tired sigh and reached into his coat. He pulled out a worn leather journal and tossed it onto the table next to the doctor.

"She was a hunter," John said with a bitter laugh. "Mary… her father… her mother… all hunters."

There was little that could surprise Dr. Morgan. He had thought that he had heard almost everything. But this was a new twist entirely on the John Winchester Saga and he knew that it was going to have a profound effect on the hunter.

"A hunter…? You mean… is that…?"

"Her journal," John said sadly. "She wrote about all the monsters she hunted… everything she learned… and… and the night her father died…"

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes and he took another long swig from the flask.

"What happened the night he died, John?"

John shook his head, obviously lost in thought.

"She told me… she said he died of a heart attack… but… but that's not what happened… God… her father had been possessed by a demon… and he… he killed me… I don't remember any of it… but he killed me… and killed her father's body… and… my God… God, Doc… she actually made a deal with that demon bastard… and brought me back…"

His voice broke and he buried his face into his hand, sobs shaking his body.

"Oh God…! Don't you see, Doc…? This is my fault! She made a deal with that monster! For _me_! To save _me_!"

"But, John, I don't understand… I thought your wife died in a fire?"

John looked up and grabbed the journal. After opening it and flipping through the pages he pointed to an entry.

"_November 2, 1973. Dad's dead. Mom's dead. I only have John left. The Yellow-Eyed Demon murdered them. He had murdered John too, but… oh my God, I had to make a deal. I made a deal to save John. He didn't want my soul, but God only knows if that will change. But he wants to come to my home in ten years. He wouldn't tell me for what, just that no one would get hurt._

"_I don't care. I don't care anymore. I can't think about it. I have John. He's OK. He doesn't know and he never will know. I can fix this myself. I have ten years to fix this. But now I will put of this behind me. No more hunting. My children will never know anything about it. John will never know. Everything is going to be OK."_

John dropped the journal back onto the table and looked up at the doctor.

"This demon… he murdered my wife… and it was because of me… he used me to gain leverage with her…"

Dr. Morgan frowned. "But… what did he want?"

John shook his head sadly. "It has something to do with Sammy… I haven't been able to figure out what that is yet… but from what I've found he's involved somehow."

"How do you know that?"

"Other nursery fires. The babies were all the same age. Most of the mothers were killed in the fires."

John stood up and began pacing the room drunkenly.

"This thing is gonna come after my boy, Doc. I don't know when or why, but I know it's just a matter of time. And I gotta protect him. I have to keep him safe."

**Present Day**

Dr. Morgan sighed wearily and rubbed his eyes. He flipped the old chart closed and looked at the leather-bound journal that lay nearby.

John had been right. The demons wanted Sam and even though the Yellow-Eyed Demon had been killed, from Ruby's actions the doctor strongly suspected that the demons weren't quite done with the young man just yet.

Of course, John had refused to share this information with his sons. He had insisted on leaving the journal and swore he would stop all this before anything happened.

Yeah, that worked out well.

With Dean dealing with his own demons it looked like the good doctor was going to have to tackle Sam Winchester's problems on his own.

**Author's Note**

Yes! I finished a chapter! I'm so sorry it's been so long since I worked on this story. As it is, I'm finishing this with a 10 month old screaming bloody murder in the background! *sigh*

I had a bit of writer's block, which was part of the reason why it took me so long to come up with another chapter. But I have an idea where to go with this so hopefully more chapters will be on the way soon! Plus, I figured since we just ended Season _6_ and I started this in Season _4 _that I needed to get my hind end in gear and move this story towards being wrapped up! : )


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Sam leaned against the motel window, staring blankly at nothing, his mind running a mile a minute. After he had left Dr. Morgan's house he had gone back to Bobby's and grabbed his things. He had thrown out some feeble excuse to the older hunter that he needed to get away and hunt for a few days, just to take his mind off of what was happening to Dean.

If only that was the reason he needed to get away.

If only hunting would fix everything.

He closed his eyes as he remembered last night. Remembered Ruby showing up at the motel. Remembered how incredible the demon blood tasted as the liquid passed over his tongue and flowed down his throat. Remembered how the power swelled inside of him. How nothing else mattered in those moments of pure ecstasy…

He shook his head as tears threatened to escape his eyes. And yet here he was, the morning after, and he didn't feel so powerful anymore. Sure, he knew he now had the strength to destroy any demons that were to show up. But the comfort that thought had been bringing him throughout the last year had dissipated.

God, what was he doing?

Now his head was clear. He was no longer struggling with the withdrawal symptoms, but he also wasn't feeling the euphoric high of last night. And the clarity made him sick to his stomach.

It had all seemed so simple in the beginning. Build up his powers, drink the blood in order to do that, and kill Lillith. Get his revenge for what she did to Dean. And, when Dean returned and it was clear just how much he was suffering, the desire for revenge became even stronger. Kill Lillith, fix Dean.

It had been so simple. So clear. It seemed logical.

But now… now Sam was faced with the stark reality of what he was doing to himself thanks to what he had witnessed with Dean. And suddenly everything wasn't as clear cut as it had seemed before. What Dean had gone through with withdrawals had just been from alcohol. Of course, he also was trying to deal with what had happened to him in Hell. But still… what did that mean for Sam? How much worse would withdrawals be for him?

Because that day would come. Eventually Lillith would be dead. Ruby wouldn't be around forever and it wasn't like any random demon would let Sam chug their demon blood when they would just be ganked by him later. So he would have to quit. And God only knows what that would do to him.

And it was terrifying.

Sam could hear Ruby in the bathroom taking a shower. She had taken to doing things, like showering and putting on makeup, to be more "human." And, to some extent, she had succeeded. Sometimes there were mundane tasks that they would each complete that were so "human"… so _normal_ that Sam would almost forget that she was a demon.

But not anymore.

He had to do something. He didn't want to accept what that something was, but he knew he couldn't keep going down this path. And then he thought about what Dr. Morgan had said. How calm he had been. How he didn't judge Sam for what he had down.

Knowing he had some times before Ruby would be done in the bathroom am grabbed his cell phone. With trembling hands he managed to dial the doctor's number and hit Send.

"Hello?"

Sam felt a lump in his throat and could barely manage to speak.

"H-hello… Dr. Morgan? This… this is Sam… Sam Winchester."

"Well, hello, Sam. It's good to hear from you."

"Doctor… I… I don't know what to do…"

Immediately the doctor's tone changed.

"Sam? Are you alright? Tell me what's wrong."

Sam swallowed hard and rubbed his hand over his face."

"I… I've been thinking about what you said… about how… how I need to make my own decisions… about… about Ruby… and… and the blood and everything…"

Sam cleared his throat and shot a glance at the bathroom before continuing.

"I did it for Dean, Doc… all of it… I did it first to save Dean from Hell… and now it's been… I just want to fix him… you know? I want Lillith dead… I want her dead because of what she did to Dean… and I want her dead… I just want her dead because… because maybe… maybe it would fix him… you know? Maybe if he knew she wasn't still out there… maybe then he would get better…"

The tears he had struggled to keep back wear now trickling down his face. He clutched his phone like it was a life preserver and the only thing keeping him alive.

"Please… Doc… please… I'm scared… I'm scared as hell right now… I know… I know this is wrong… I know dealing with demons and trusting demons is stupid as hell… I just… I just don't know what else to do… and usually Dean can help me… he always has before… he always knew another way… but… God… he can't help me… and I'm scared that… that I've really screwed everything up this time… that this… this can't be fixed…

"I know this might kill me… hell, I know this is going to kill me… whether it's downing too much demon blood… or trying to screw with a demon that's more than I can take… and… and I don't care if I die… I was dead before… I'm only here now because Dean sacrificed himself for me…"

Sam heard the shower shut off and he knew that he didn't have much time. He had to hurry.

"I need to just know one thing… I need you to answer something for me, Doc… please… please be honest with me…"

"Of course, Sam," Dr. Morgan replied quietly. "I will answer you as best I can."

"Lillith… she was the cause of all this… and… and I need to know… will killing her fix Dean? If she's gone… would that make Dean better…?"

He heard Dr. Morgan take a deep breath.

"Sam… Dean's problem is very complex and there are multiple issues he is working through-"

"Yes or no, Dr. Morgan," Sam interjected, his heart hammering in his chest. "If I kill Lillith will it make Dean better?"

There was a pause before Dr. Morgan spoke again.

"It may provide some initial comfort for him to know she is no longer a threat to him, no, it's not a solution that would fully cure him. I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He leaned against the cool window pane, struggling to calm his mind and to focus. He could hear Dr. Morgan trying to talk to him, although he sounded a million miles away.

"Sam? Sam? Talk to me, Sam. Stay with me, OK?"

And then, for the first time in what felt like forever, everything came into focus. The fear was replaced with a strange calmness. In the background he could hear Ruby getting ready to come out of the bathroom.

"Thank you, Dr. Morgan," Sam said, his voice unusually calm and quiet. "That cleared up everything for me. I know what I need to do now."

"Sam? What do you mean by that? Sam!"

Sam hung up the phone as Ruby opened the bathroom door. Yes, he knew exactly what he needed to do. And, for once, he wasn't afraid to do it.

_Hope y'all don't mind a more Sam-centered chapter! Thanks to a very touching and inspiring review by __dupreewith2es I finally broke through the writer's block I've been plagued with. I hope all of you continue to enjoy the story and thank you all again for all your loyal support! It means the world to me!_


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